


Tempting Fate

by Luluw5



Series: We Who Give Ourselves Over to Fate [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Angst, Characters as Gods, Characters as heroes, Greek Gods AU, LITERALLY, Multi, not full characters list, writing this is epic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9267221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luluw5/pseuds/Luluw5
Summary: Yamaguchi Tadashi didn't ask to be a hero, but fate has a funny way of forcing your hand.





	1. Temple of Doom?

**Author's Note:**

> A week, two beta readers, and 27 pages in google docs, and lo, the longest work I've ever written. Thank you so much SoftEdgedStars and AkaaSHEEEEEEE for dealing with my mess, and keeping me on track. 
> 
> If you enjoy reading, comment and let me know!
> 
> Insp.   
> http://gutspace.tumblr.com/post/151245635769/music-warmup-pales-too-much-ft-yamatsukki

Tapestries, endless sheaths of fabric cascaded from an invisible ceiling like wine from a decanter. The moon shone bright and full, washing out the intermittent torches to cast a wintry glow on the walls and floor. The cavernous halls were lined with portrayals of battles and voyages, quests and conquests, nativities and deaths, countless stories told in cool silks and vibrant dyes.

The hand that had woven them was undeniably skilled. Among these stories he saw tales not unlike his own, so lifelike that the figures seemed to almost breathe. Tales of plundering warlords and cities in flames, of shattered families and aimless renegades. The moonlight pressed down on him, as though it contained the weight of his purpose in its fragile beams.

A ship cut through frigid waves as storm clouds crowded in from all sides. Tadashi could almost smell salt in the air as he gazed upon the piece in wonder. Wind howled in his ears. The halls remained silent.

Talent was a curious thing. Tadashi never felt like he had any of his own, no spark of potential of which to speak. Lacking the ability to create, Tadashi contented himself with admiring the work of others, when and where he was allowed. The young hero dawdled in the magnificent hall, his every step echoing into oblivion. He paused in front of a scene of revelry; seven dryads danced hand in hand within their ancestral grove. Frozen in their mirth, Tadashi could almost hear their laughter ring out, filling the empty cavern with a friendly warmth. The bark on the ring of ancient oaks was so masterfully rendered that Tadashi reached out, not of his own volition, to feel the texture with his own hand.

“ _I wouldn’t...._ ” A whispery voice floated through the air. Tadashi turned to find that the chamber had grown hazy. Moonbeams drifting down from the open roof were now visible as they filtered through the thin smoke. A small-statured figure stood behind Tadashi, eyes cast down, slumped over as though to make itself smaller.

“Did you make these?” Tadashi’s breath stirred the smoke. At first, he was afraid to inhale it, but it sat comfortably in his lungs. The air felt thicker, and made Tadashi’s head lighter. He resolved to take shallower breaths.

“ _Sorta...._ ” The figure looked up at Tadashi from beneath long, thin eyelashes. His words curled from his mouth as characters, glowing beneath the light of the moon. “ _I...helped._ ”

“You should be proud,” Tadashi said earnestly, “they surpass the most skilled mortals, but that’s to be expected of the divine.” He remembered to bow his head in deference. The immortal shrugged.

“ _You don’t have to do that. I don’t care much for formalities,_ ” he said softly, turning away from the young hero. A lifetime of learned deference pointed its finger at Tadashi. He straightened, unsure of what else to do. The god looked away, disinterested.

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi opted to say, finally. Tension hung thick in the air, like, well, smoke. Tadashi felt a trickle of sweat run down his side as he searched for his next words. “Your home is lovely.”

“ _But heroes aren’t welcome here,_ ” The immortal replied, not looking at him. “ _You need to leave._ ”

“But I have-” Tadashi started.

“ _A quest?_ ” The immortal finished. His eyes turned cold. “ _Like them?_ ”

The room began to spin. Tapestries billowed forth, filling Tadashi’s vision with terrible scenes. Images of clashing rocks and saw-toothed monsters blew past his eyes so quickly that the pictures seemed to move. A manticore reared its ugly head and Tadashi screamed. The tapestries took on a mind of their own, cycling madly through horror after horror, but always lingering on the tragic subject, the hero, broken down, bloodied, maddened, and above all, disgraced.

“You control the wind?!” Tadashi stumbled back in fear, arms held defensively in front of him.

“ _No,_ ” the immortal said slowly, “ _but I spun the threads. They listen to me. You should too; leave before they find you._ ”

Tadashi shook his head fervently, anxiety gripping him like a vise. “I can’t. I have a quest, a goal. If I don’t then the people I love will be in peril. Please, I need-”

“ _Hmph._ ” The immortal abruptly sat down and pulled a small box out of his shift. “ _I don’t feel like it. You found us. That’s impressive. But I can’t help you._ ”

The smoke tickled Tadashi’s nose, making him feel like sneezing. He covered his mouth. “Please...it’s really important....”

“ _You think you’re the first?_ ” The immortal fiddled with the box and it unraveled into many strings. They reshaped themselves into a sphere, which he rolled between his hands. “ _Here you are the one in peril. They don’t like heroes. He kills them._ ”

“Who does?”

“ _My brothers. Akaashi...Keiji and,_ ” The smoke in the air froze and the immortal’s words died on his tongue. “ _Ah, he’s heard us. Names have power, I can give you that advice. Good luck hero. My older brother is quiet. You won’t find him as helpful._ ”

“Wait!” The immortal began retreating into the smoke. “Please, tell me what to expect. Who are you? And who is your other brother?”

The immortal turned back. “ _Kozume...Kenma. My younger brother...._ ” The immortal sighed. From his lips curled a wisp of smoke. It rose higher than the others, seeking out a strong beam of moonlight in which to form, “ _蛍._ ”

“Hotaru?” Tadashi asked, reading the smoke, _Firefly…._ But the immortal didn’t answer. Tadashi found himself alone.

__________________________________________________________

The light didn’t fade as he pushed deeper into the cavern, yet the shadows behind the tapestries seemed to thicken. The air felt heavier too, Tadashi thought, as though the very elements carried more weight. The colors of the tapestries became more rich, unravaged by the wind and the rain, yet somehow no more beautiful than those he’d already seen.

Tadashi walked with his hands wrapped around his waist, trying to suppress the fluttering in his abdomen. He was scared. The immortal, Kozume, could have killed him, Tadashi knew, yet he hadn’t. But a powerful being who promised death was to be just as feared as one who performed the killing themselves.

He had come so far. Tadashi really did not want to die.

The shadows pressed forth, stirring the tapestries, lifting them from their stances and pushing them towards Tadashi. The young hero shied away, wary now of the powers that dwelled in the cave.

Once more, the air seemed to still. Tadashi hesitated only a moment before turning to meet the next figure. Kozume had not prepared him for what he saw.

The figure was tall and lithe. Rope-like muscles stood out under a form-fitting shift, entirely black. The figure stood still, as though he had just stepped off of a tapestry and did not yet know how to move. He was beautiful enough to have come from one of the tapestries. His eyes were bright, his stance regal, but most striking of all was his face. Below the figure’s nose lay a plane of smooth, seamless skin, devoid of a mouth. Tadashi’s bones turned to jelly.

For a beat, the two simply looked at each other. Then, almost casually, the immortal, raised his hand and beckoned Tadashi to follow. The tapestries seemed to swallow Kozume’s brother whole, or perhaps he was one with the shadows to begin with. Tadashi hesitated to follow the strange figure into the darkness, but his curiosity won over his common sense.

The shadows parted around him, revealing an unassuming doorway carved into the stone. Atop the arch of the door sat a stone owl. Its blank eyes regarded Tadashi coldly as he entered the antechamber.

 _Probably not Firefly,_ Tadashi decided.

The room was untouched by moonlight. A hearth stood in its center, ringed by three stools. The fire glowed cheerfully, spreading a warm light over the unpolished walls and the miles upon miles of thread stretched across them. However it didn’t quite reach the ceiling, protected as it was by bat-like swaths of cloth. Behind the pit, in an area the light did not touch, Tadashi could make out divots in the ground, at least two dozen of them, into which countless strings lead. By the door hung half-woven tapestries, but not a loom in sight.

“You don’t make them either?” Tadashi stepped to the side, examining the half-finished tapestries. Akaashi didn’t respond. When Tadashi turned around, he found the immortal giving him a tired look.

“Sorry,” Tadashi said. Horror dawned on his face as he realized his error. “Akaashi...was it?” His panic tempered off into relief as the immortal nodded in response. “You didn’t make these?”

Akaashi tilted his hand. “So-so....You helped?” A shrug this time. Akaashi gestured towards the divots. Driven by curiosity, Tadashi crossed the threshold of the room and went to investigate. The divots turned out to be wells in the stone, each filled with a dark liquid Tadashi couldn’t make out in the meagre light. The threads running through them caught his attention. For the most part they were a luminous white-grey, but the sections closer to the wells were stained darker.

“Dye,” Tadashi realized. “You’re dyeing them.”

No sooner had he said it, then Tadashi felt something light and razor thin settle across his throat.

Tadashi’s response was immediate. The boy froze solid, tension turning his shoulders into harsh ridges. The veins stood out on his neck as gentle fingers pulled the string tight around his throat. But it did not hurt.

Soon, though not soon enough, the thread loosened. Tadashi didn’t have time to relax, because the thread lifted at once to circle his brow. Tadashi flinched as the string, a cool, honey colored cord, not dissimilar to his own skin tone, passed in front of his eyes. Tadashi barely allowed himself to breathe, unsure to say the least of what Akaashi may be doing.

 _He doesn’t like heroes,_ Tadashi remembered belatedly, _will he kill me?_

Akaashi pulled away as suddenly and as silently as he had approached. It took Tadashi a moment to realize the immortal had left him. The young hero turned, thoroughly shaken.

“W-what did you just do?” Tadashi winced at the quaver in his voice. If he was alive he had nothing to fear. If only he could believe that.

Akaashi stood near the hearth with the honey-colored cord wrapped around his hands. He held them up to Tadashi, first pulling them apart, then pushing them together so that the loops of string fell into different lengths.

“Measuring?” Akaashi nodded. “Measuring what?” Akaashi didn’t answer.

The immortal walked back over to the wells. Tadashi stepped to the side, giving Akaashi a wide berth. Akaashi continued to ignore his question, and crouched beside a well devoid of threads. He fiddled with the string, drawing out a length, then dipping it. He sat motionless for ages while the thread soaked. Tadashi, not knowing what else to do, stood there too, counting his heartbeats to keep time. Far too soon his heart calmed, and Tadashi grew restless.

“I’m...on a quest,” Tadashi had no idea whether or not the immortal was listening, but he may as well try to solicit some help. “I’ve been traveling a long time, most of my life. But I’ve really been traveling more recently. Like, on purpose. Ok that didn’t make much sense. Am I not making much sense?” Predictably, the immortal did not answer.

“Ok, let me try again.” Tadashi wrung his hands. “Ever since I was six years old, I’ve been the cabin boy on a slaver ship. Before that I lived with my family in an island country to the east. But war came, and the slavers followed. I was a sickly kid, my mom always had to take care of me. She didn’t make it, and when the slavers picked up the rest of my village, I was almost thrown overboard. But the boatswain said he could use someone small in the cargo hold, and since they couldn’t sell me, they made me a part of the crew.”

Akaashi hadn’t looked up since Tadashi started talking. The young hero took that as a good sign.

“So I lived with them for...years. I didn’t like it,” he nervously continued. “The crew was rude and could be cruel. They were practically pirates. But I didn’t have anywhere else to go. So about a year ago, no, two years ago, we docked at another island to the east. But the fighting there hadn’t stopped, our quartermaster had gotten bad information, and we were stuck in the middle of a war zone. The native people won, and turned on the ship immediately. I don't know how they knew who we were...but they hated slavers. Who wouldn't? I know I did....” Tadashi sighed. “After they drove the slavers off, I stayed behind. Six years on the ocean hadn’t helped my health. A widow took me in. She had lost her daughter in the battles and...why do we fight anyway? We’re all human beings! There are worse things in the world than each other and yet we’re still always fighting!” Akaashi didn’t answer.

“I guess a god wouldn’t have any reason to care about us lowly mortals,” Tadashi said bitterly. The immortal looked up. He waited until Tadashi lifted his downcast eyes, and then shrugged. Tadashi felt his blood boil, but he didn’t dare raise his voice.

“Can you help me?” Tadashi asked, voice rough with anger. “They came back, the slavers. They had a new captain. They burned the city to the ground and took everyone there as slaves. They still didn’t want me. I-I tried to buy them back, but I didn’t have the money. They said that the only thing worth a hundred lives was your own destiny. So I need,” Tadashi gulped, “I need their threads.”

The words hung dead in the air between them. Akaashi continued to stare at Tadashi, bright eyes seeming to search his very soul. As it had happened twice before in the cavern, the room stilled, even the flames of the hearth quieted. Now, Tadashi thought, if he was going to kill me at any time, it would be now. But death didn’t come. Instead the silence ended in a flurry of movement. Wings and wispy grey feathers broke their eye contact as a tufted owl swooped down from some unseen perch. A white thread trailed behind it, leading from its beak to some hidden opening in the wall. Akaashi lifted his arm and the owl alighted atop it. Tadashi winced to see the raptor’s sharp claws dig into the god’s skin, but Akaashi did not flinch.

The immortal removed the thread from the owl’s mouth and wound it around his hand. The owl, who had begun to preen its feathers, let out a contented ‘hoo’ as Akaashi rubbed its crest. The bird’s face scrunched happily, and it tilted its head to offer more scratchable spots. The immortal obliged. It was difficult to tell since he had no mouth, but Tadashi could have sworn Akaashi smiled. After having its fill of scratches, the owl hopped Akaashi’s arm to roost on his shoulder. Droplets of golden ichor welled up where the raptor’s talons pierced the god’s skin, but Akaashi didn’t seem to mind. Fresh thread in hand, the immortal returned to the wells of dye, dipping and waiting, and dipping again.

The longer Tadashi waited, the more restless he became. He had traveled across the ocean, climbed a mountain, and fought off wolves, karpoi, and harpies, as well as thieves and scoundrels. He had given himself over to Fate, walked willingly into the unknown and had come face to face with not one, but two infinitely powerful beings, yet he had nothing to show for it. Unacceptable.

“If you won’t help me,” Tadashi said, staring hard at the ground, “then tell me where your last brother is. I’ll ask him.”

He expected silence; from a mute god, what else would one expect? What he got instead was a scream.

The owl launched itself off of Akaashi’s shoulder and took flight. Tadashi stumbled back with a startled yelp as the bird of prey blew by, still screeching like a banshee. It winged its way up past Tadashi’s head towards the entrance of the antechamber, but instead of flying through the tapestries, it went up. Tadashi craned his neck to track the bird’s flight, but something else caught his eye.

A single bolt of finely-woven fabric stretched ten men high, from the very top of the ceiling, stopping just above the entrance to the antechamber. Tadashi squinted, trying to make out the immense frieze in the dim light. The first part, and that closest to the bottom, was obviously of Kozume. The immortal sat crouched behind an old spinning wheel, intently focused on his task. The artist had captured his mien at a three-quarters angle, so the smoke wisping up from his mouth didn’t obscure his face. At Kozume’s feet, in front of the spinning wheel, lay a huge grey cat. Its paws were raised lazily, trying to bat at the silver thread as it passed through Kozume’s fingers and traveled up the drapery towards the second subject.

Akaashi’s profile was barely visible in the gloom. The tired firelight revealed the thread’s turning a heady crimson as it reached the second immortal’s hand. Akaashi held it up to gauge its length. The string cut a cerise smile across Akaashi’s face, somehow making the god’s appearance even more disturbing. A smoke-colored owl stood proudly on his far shoulder, barely visible in the shadows. It’s large, golden eye peered out from the drapery and stared directly at Tadashi. The hero shivered.

“It’s too dark….” Tadashi squinted at the tapestry, trying to make out the path of the thread to the third figure. The shadows hid the details, but Tadashi could make out a form standing head and shoulders over the other two. Near the ceiling, the real tufted owl flew in lazy circles, disturbing strings and dossers both with its powerful wings. A curtain blew aside, and moonlight flooded chamber. For a brief moment, the tapestry could be seen. The texture of Kozume’s white shift, the blue in Akaashi’s eyes, the gold and tan and black that speckled the tufted-owl’s feathers, and the liquid crimson shine of the thread all stood out in stark relief. But most of all, Tadashi could see the third immortal, _蛍_. His back was turned, and he stood above his brothers. Rather than black or white, his shift was a gunmetal grey, cinched at the waist with a gold tassel. The crimson thread traveled up over his shoulder and into his left hand. In his right he held a pair of silver shears. The way the light fell, they seemed to glow.

Even after the curtain settled, plunging the chamber into relative darkness, Tadashi remained fixed in place. After a time the sound of whispering floated over his shoulder, and, in the back of his mind, Tadashi knew that the speaker couldn’t be Akaashi. It wasn’t until the first wisps of smoke stung his nose that Tadashi allowed himself to turn around.

“What are you doing here?” Tadashi asked the blonde immortal.

“ _I live here,_ ” Kozume broke off his conversation with Akaashi to reply. “ _What are you still doing here?_ ”

Tadashi gritted his teeth and chose to ignore the question. “I thought you said he hated heroes?”

“ _I said he didn’t like them._ ” Kozume’s eyes gleamed. “ _And he doesn’t. Keiji has the bad habit of falling in love with them._ ”

Akaashi gave his brother a weary look, but, predictably, said nothing.

“I want to meet your brother.”

Kozume looked over his shoulder at Akaashi, then lifted his eyebrow. “ _Oh?_ ”

“You know who I mean.” Tadashi grimaced. Was he really going to get away with being this insolent to a god?

“ _Stubborn,_ ” Kozume replied with a shrug, “ _Whatever._ ”

The light-haired deity scratched his head and sat down on one of the stools by the hearth. The tufted-owl swooped down to perch next to him. Flames sputtered in the wake of its flight, but the hearth did not go out.

“ _I guess Keiji can show you the way,_ ” Kozume said, pulling his sphere from his pocket. He began fiddling with his toy. “ _If he wants to._ ”

Tadashi looked to the second immortal. Akaashi stooped to scratch the owl’s head once more. He then placed a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, and gave him a meaningful look as though to say, _‘behave.’_

“ _Don’t worry_ ,” Kozume responded. “ _I’ll watch the bird-brain_.”

The owl cooed happily as Akaashi nodded. Straightening, the dark-haired immortal beckoned for Tadashi to follow him. With one arm wrapped around his stomach, Tadashi steeled his nerves and went.

  
Tadashi had been sure that Akaashi lead him to the same door through which they had entered, yet for some reason they exited to the top of a spiraling stone staircase. Intermittent torches cast a yellow glow over the cracked steps. The air was dry. Tadashi ran his tongue over his sea-chapped lips as he took the first step. Akaashi wrestled a torch from its holder and followed him down the narrow passage.

  
Tadashi took in his surroundings warily, as though something could jump out at him at any time. To be fair, with deities and avians alike appearing seemingly out of nowhere, the worry wasn’t unfounded.

  
The walls were identical. Each footfall echoed only once before disappearing. Even the torches seemed to bend in the same direction, as if all being pushed by an unfelt wind. Tadashi’s eyes began to unfocus as he took step after repetitive step. His mind wandered. The shadows hidden in corners beneath the steps morphed into strange shapes when he looked away; some were faces, some forms, but none could Tadashi recognize. His head felt light, as though he were back in the cavern breathing Kozume’s smoke, but down here the air was scathingly clear.

  
Tadashi rubbed his eyes and struggled to focus, but soothing jolt of his feet hitting the next step, and the hypnotic motion of the torches pulled him out of his head and into a twilight state, where shadows moved and the stairs, oh the stairs, they looked so inviting.

  
_And look_ , Tadashi thought, they’re coming closer, _like they want to give me a hug. Will this hurt?_

  
But it wasn’t pain he felt, it was the sense of being yanked backwards into darkness that followed Tadashi into unconsciousness.

__________________________________________________________

 

‘Soft’ was the first word that came to Tadashi’s mind as he awoke. He woke with his face pressed against something soft and warm. Pillows? No, quilts, he was laying in a veritable sea of modestly colored quilts. Tadashi rubbed the bleariness out of his eyes and tried push himself up. His arm sank into the sheets where he leaned on them, and he ended up falling face first into a lizard-patterned duvet. What an awe-inspiring hero he turned out to be.

“Akaashi?” Tadashi fumbled around until he managed a sitting position. “Hello?”

“He’s calling your name, Keiji” A foreign voice noted, “are you sure he isn’t one of yours? A little scrawny for your tastes, sure, but better than that bumbling bird-brain.”

Tadashi heard a thud and a soft chuckle, “Alright, point taken,” the strange voice said, “I’ll let you and your questionable taste in men lie. But now, what to do with _him_?” The speaker’s voice changed abruptly, shifting from easy and playful to chilly in a heartbeat. Tadashi still couldn’t see the speaker, which left one uncomfortable option; they both were behind him.

Tadashi turned around.

The other two had been beautiful, Akaashi with his piercing eyes, and Kozume with his skin so fine even the muses would cry to sing of it. But the last one, Firefly, he was stunning. His hair and skin were both far lighter than Akaashi’s or even Kozume’s, as though he hadn’t seen the sun in months. And though he lacked the delicate features of his brothers, his strong jawline and warm honey-colored eyes made Tadashi’s thoughts stutter to a halt. He looked at Tadashi. Well, he frowned at Tadashi. Oh Gods.

“Is he more dumb than you, Keiji?” The immortal sneered. “I was hoping for a ‘please don’t kill me,’ but it seems like he can only gawk. Did Kenma’s cat eat his tongue?”

The blonde immortal sat in a wicker chair lined with satin cushions. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, visible underneath glass table strewn with scraps of fabric, needles, and a gleaming pair of silver shears. Firefly’s brother stood close behind, leveling a chilling glare at the back of his brother’s head with such intensity that Tadashi was sure that he was about to witness the death of a god. That is, until Akaashi reached out and lightly cuffed the blonde immortal on the ear.

“Will you stop that?” Firefly rubbed his head and scowled. “Don’t you have a loom to thread?”

Akaashi gestured towards the loom in question. It was massive, easily three meters tall, and covered with hundreds of vertically-running strings. The threads were already dyed, and Tadashi could almost make out the shadowy figure that would be the subject of the new tapestry on the blue and green background. It suddenly occurred to Tadashi that, for such a large instrument to have been threaded, he must have been asleep for quite some time.

“Uh,” Tadashi began, trying to ignore the way his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, “how long-”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, our sleeping sailor speaks.”

Tadashi chewed his lip nervously. Kozume had been casual, Akaashi kind, but something told him that this one wouldn’t be so inclined to treat him fairly. He bowed his head respectfully. “I am...grateful that you let me rest in your presence.” Tadashi chose his words carefully, trying not to piss off the deity who controlled people’s lifespans.

Firefly leaned back in his seat and snorted, “How lame. You’re “grateful,” do you know how pathetic that sounds?” The god didn’t give Tadashi a chance to respond. “What do you want, sailor? You’re consorting with gods. Didn’t your mother ever tell you we’re not to be approached so casually? Tell me your name so I know whose thread to cut. Wait no, hold on, it’ll come to me.” The god paused, and seemed to search the glass table for answers. “Ah, Yamaguchi Tadashi, you’re a long way from home.”

“I guess….” Tadashi trailed off.

“You can call me Tsukishima. Or just not speak at all. Both are acceptable.”

 _You talk a lot for a supposedly stand-offish god,_ Tadashi thought.

“Tsukishima, I need help, please.” Tadashi internally cringed at how casual he sounded, but forced himself to forge ahead. “People I care about are in danger, and the only way I can help them is if I-”

“Boring.”

Tadashi stammered, “Excuse me?”

“You sound like you’re trying to be some sort of hero. It’s irritating me,” Tsukishima said.

Tadashi felt himself flush. “What do you mean?”

  
“I don’t like heroes,” He explained coolly. “They get uselessly worked up over issues that resolve themselves in the blink of an eye. What’s the point in being hot-blooded when their corpses cool so quickly?”

  
“You can’t possibly think that,” Tadashi protested, “you’re a god!”

  
“And to a god,” Tsukishima replied, “a human lifespan is a trifle. So tell me, sailor, why should I care? My brother, Keiji here, he cared about a human once. He cared so much, that he did the one thing _we_ can never do; he promised his beloved eternal life.” Tadashi looked at the dark-haired god out of the corner of his eye. He seemed nonplussed by the story, but made no move to silence his brother.

  
“In case you weren’t aware, that’s a big no-no. Not for gods, just for us.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Hypocrites. They can romance whatever mortal they so choose, but the moment Keiji made that promise, the other gods were in an uproar. What a stupid thing to get worked up over. They demanded that we have some, oh, what did they call it, moral backbone? Ridiculous. So to make amends, Keiji gave up his right to make any promises ever again. Isn’t that right, Keiji.” Akaashi pinched his fingers, and drew them across his face, then shrugged.

  
“Hah, good one.”

  
“So, what happened to the human?” Tadashi asked. “Did they become a god?”

  
“Hardly,” Tsukishima sneered, “you see, gods are sticklers for the rules when they aren’t bending them for themselves. Keiji’s sweetheart, what was his name? Bokuto. Was granted eternal life, but not eternal youth. So he was cursed to live, even after his body lost its strength, even after his limbs failed him.” Tsukishima’s eyes gleamed with something Tadashi couldn’t identify. “Damn near broke Keiji’s heart. So rather than see Bokuto wither away into nothing, Keiji turned him into an owl. He’s still around, pooping on my work, I’m sure.”

  
That explained the owl in Akaashi’s chambers, but Tsukishima’s condescension grated in a way Tadashi couldn’t put his finger on. “...is he happy?”

  
“Is he what?”

  
Next to the loom, Akaashi nodded. By the way his eyes scrunched up at the corners, Tadashi figured he was glad the young hero had asked. Maybe he’d won one god’s favor tonight.

  
“Is he happy. It seems to me that if Akaashi doesn’t regret it, and if Bokuto is content, then there’s really no lesson to be learned. It all worked out,” Tadashi explained. From the corner of his eye, he saw Akaashi clasp his hands together. The god agreed with him, or at least Tadashi thought he did. Tadashi smiled.

  
“Tch,” Tsukishima sighed. “You’re bothersome.”

  
_You’re only saying that because I’m right_ , Tadashi thought. The way this god carried on, Tadashi could be lead to believe that petulance was a divine virtue.

  
“Maybe I should just kill you and be done with this mess.” Those words were as effective as a bucket of freezing water to shake Tadashi from his subversive thoughts. Tsukishima raised himself from his seat and paced to the other side of the room. The young hero looked to Akaashi nervously. Akaashi waved his hand, as though to say ‘don’t worry.’ The dark-haired god was relaxed, leaning against the wall next to the loom and playing with the dark tassel on his shift. Tadashi hadn’t noticed before, but the eldest brother seemed to have difficulties keeping his hands still. As opposed to the youngest brother who, Tadashi noted, couldn’t seem to keep his feet in one place.

  
‘ _He likes to kill them….’_ Kozume’s warning surfaced, unbidden, causing Tadashi to flinch. No, he couldn’t psych himself out now, not when he’d come this far.

  
“If you wanted to kill me...why didn’t you do it already?”

  
Tsukishima stopped pacing. “What did you say?”

  
Tadashi felt his pulse start to race. Provoking an all-powerful deity wasn’t good for his anxiety. “I- nothing.”

  
“Hmph,” Tsukishima turned away from the young hero and pointed at his brother. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  
Akaashi placed one hand on his hip and gave Tsukishima a dubious look.

  
“I don’t need a babysitter.”

  
Akaashi’s other hand found a hip. Tadashi suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to stand up straight and comb his hair.

  
“Fine! I won’t kill him. Gods, Keiji, you’ve gone soft.”

  
Akaashi’s shoulders shook. Tadashi realized that he might have been laughing, or something close to it. The dark-haired god turned his attention to the young hero. “Uh,” Tadashi fumbled for words. “Thank you for...everything. I’ll be alright.” _I hope._

  
Akaashi winked. Tadashi felt his face heat up as the god waved to the two of them and strolled out of the room, pushing through the beaded curtain that masked what Tadashi presumed to be the staircase’s presence.

  
“Hmph.” Tadashi looked back to find Tsukishima rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Siblings I swear….”

  
“They don’t seem all that bad.”

  
“Did I ask for your opinion?” Internally, Tadashi seethed. He hated needlessly cruel people, but he needed Tsukishima’s favor, so he bit his cheek and bore it.

  
“Aren’t gods supposed to be all about hospitality?” He asked irritably. Whoops, that one slipped out.

  
“The more you get to know us,” Tsukishima replied, “the more you’ll learn that we contradict ourselves constantly.” The blonde immortal walked over to his loom and sat down. He occupied himself with calibrating the instrument, taking his eyes off of the young hero.

  
Tadashi struggled a bit to escape the pile of quilts, and eventually made it to solid ground. Having broken free of the dastardly clutches of the sheets, Tadashi allowed himself a good look around. This room was surprisingly well lit considering the state of the rest of the domicile. Though Tadashi couldn’t see any torches, a soft yellow light diffused across the walls, leaving no shadows. Directly in front of him stood the wicker chair and the low glass table. Tadashi examined the scraps of fabric and wondered what the god could have been using them for.

  
_Maybe he has a scrapbook_ , Tadashi mused. Tsukishima really didn’t seem like the scrapbooking type.

  
A few meters away, the loom started up with a creak and a shudder. The immortal ignored Tadashi in favor of his work, wielding the shuttle like a conductor would his baton. For a breath, he stilled. Tsukishima gazed at his loom the way a mathematician may look upon a difficult proof. A furrow appeared between his eyes, and his lower lip pooched out in a concentrated pout. All at once Tsukishima began to weave, shuttle moving too quickly for Tadashi’s eyes to follow. The loom clunked and clattered as Tsukishima manipulated it, filling the room with the sound of diligent labor.

  
A strange feeling overcame Tadashi as he watched Tsukishima work, a twinge deep inside him, as though someone had seized a part of his soul and was slowly trying to pull it out through his navel. Tadashi decided that he would have to stop watching Tsukishima immediately.

  
“Why am I still here?” Tadashi said as he wandered over to the glass table. Picking up one of the needles, he poked it experimentally. “Ow.”

  
“How are you still alive, more like,” Tsukishima said gruffly. “Put that down. It’s not for you to play with.”

  
“Ok but that doesn’t answer-” A gentle movement of the beaded curtains and an obnoxiously loud meow cut Tadashi off. “Uh, cat?”

  
Tsukishima looked away from his loom, annoyed to have been interrupted. “That’s Lev. He belongs to Kenma.”

  
“Another lover…?” Tadashi inquired earnestly. Tsukishima barked out a laugh earning him a frown from Tadashi. It had seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to the young hero.

“Oh please, Kenma wouldn’t take that much flack from a god, forget a mortal. Besides, Kenma barely tolerates that mangy furball. He only keeps it around because it was a gift.”

  
_What in Hades is ‘flack’?_

  
Tsukishima went on. “This asshole,” the blonde immortal pointed with his shuttle, “was caught spying on a god called Yaku. As punishment, Yaku turned him into a cat and dumped him on us. In my opinion, letting that clawed menace near our tapestries does more than tempt Fate,” Tsukishima huffed.

  
“So a mortal looks at a god, and gets sentenced to life as a cat?”

  
“Be grateful my brothers and I allow you to look upon us at all.”

  
Tadashi fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Is Lev at all related to Kenma–I mean Kozume’s– y’know, talking...thing?”

  
“The smoke? No, don’t be obtuse. That was the work of another immortal, obviously.”

  
“I’m not obtuse,” Tadashi snapped. “I may not be a god but that doesn’t make me an idiot!”

  
Tsukishima fixed Tadashi with a look. The young hero’s stomach exploded with nervous butterflies. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

  
“Stop talking,” Tsukishima ordered. Tadashi closed his mouth. “Kenma’s smoke is another matter entirely; one I don’t think is important to discuss right now.”

  
Tadashi’s limbs felt heavy. He had been so caught up in the stories and the banter, that, for a moment, he had forgotten why he was talking to a Fate in the first place.

  
_Gods, I’m a terrible hero_ , Tadashi groaned inwardly. But he couldn’t dwell on that.

  
“Then let’s talk about threads.” Tadashi said as he stood. Even sitting, Tsukishima cut an imposing figure. Maybe it was the unimpressed look on his face, or the way he steepled his fingers, but Tadashi felt out of his comfort zone. Ever since he’d entered the realm of the gods, Tadashi knew he had crossed a line. But here, in this homey cave, facing one of the biggest challenges of his life, Tadashi felt like he was in another world entirely. “I need them to help people. Please, let me take them.”

  
A pause, a heartbeat passed before Tsukishima answered.

  
“No.”

  
“Why not?”

  
“They don’t belong in the hands of mortals.”

  
“What if I’m not asking-”

  
“So what if you’re not? What’s the pathetic little would-be hero going to do to a god?” The way he said it so matter of factly, as though Tadashi were nothing more than an uppity fly, completely drove Tadashi over the edge. He saw red. Tadashi wanted to lunge at Tsukishima, to grab him by the collar and shake him until those honey-colored eyes popped right out of his head.

  
But he was too much of a coward to move even an inch. Tadashi took a deep breath to center himself. It didn’t help. He could still feel the emotions starting to spill over, try as he might to stop them.

  
“You’re right.” Tadashi grimaced, fixing his eyes to the floor. His hands clenched painfully, ragged nails boring into his palms. He tried to concentrate on the pain to forget the tears welling in his eyes.

  
“Excuse me?” Tsukishima seemed surprised.

  
“I said ‘you’re right.’ Humans, mortals, we’re insignificant compared to you gods. We’re small and petty and weak. Maybe you don’t understand what it’s like to have your Fate decided for you, to have every miracle and tragedy woven into some pretty _tapestry_ , before you can even walk. You probably just think that it’s like watching ants march back and forth, but it matters to us. Freedom matters to people, and people matter to people.”

  
“But what could possibly drive you to-” Tsukishima tried to cut in.

  
“Drive us to what?” Tadashi’s voice was hard. His hands shook. “To want the best for ourselves? To want to forge our own path, to escape our fate? What motivation do we need besides pride? Or love? Or the desire for personal happiness???” Tadashi took a deep breath. “Maybe you don’t get it, because you don’t have any friends, or animal consorts, or because your mouth is _perfect_ , but humans live by their flaws, by their weakness and their pettiness. We aren’t born to be divine, but we’re born with the desire to improve and grow. As far as I can tell, you probably haven’t grown one bit since you- since you _spawned_!”

  
Tadashi felt the air rush out of his lungs, and suddenly he was light headed. He fell back into the wicker armchair, despairing his chances of ever seeing his friends again, forget saving them.

  
Wordlessly, Tsukishima stood up. At first, Tadashi thought he would be angry, but the god seemed shell-shocked. His stance was loose and unguarded, hands by his sides, as opposed to earlier when his arms had largely been crossed. His feet pointed outwards rather than straight forward, as though he was unsure of which direction he wanted to move. But the most telling change was in his face. The arrogant, contemptuous look that had been a constant fixture on Tsukishima’s features fell away, revealing an unexpected vulnerability. Tsukishima’s eyes were wide and unfocused. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, and there was no a trace of a sneer anywhere to be seen.

  
Tadashi stayed quiet, much calmer now that he’d had his outburst. Maybe, just maybe, Tsukishima would forget he was there, and not go through with the smiting thing. How could he have said all that to a GOD? They were notoriously selfish, and self-centered, and _never_ kind to the mortals who pointed all that out. Tadashi felt like he was already sinking into his grave. He just hoped there would be enough left of him to bury.

  
“You’re wrong.”

  
The sound of Tsukishima’s voice brought Tadashi back to reality. “Huh?”

  
“You’re wrong. About the threads. Gods have them too.” Tsukishima still had that faraway look in his eye, but his fingers began to twitch. “It’s not the same, but they’re still there. It’s….” He trailed off.

  
The silence may have only lasted a minute, but Tadashi figured it was closer to a century. Just as he was about to say something, Tsukishima walked away.

  
“Hey where are you going?” Tadashi got up and walked after him, but Tsukishima’s long legs carried him through the beaded curtain first. Without looking back, the god disappeared.

  
“Tsukishima?” When Tadashi tried to push through the beaded curtain to follow, he was met with a sand-colored wall. He felt his heart drop to his feet. Panic began to bubble up in Tadashi’s throat as he searched for a break or a handle, anything that would let him out, but he found none. The walls on either side flowed seamlessly into the new section, as though there had never been a door there in the first place.

  
“There’s no way he’ll just leave me in here, right?” Tadashi said. The young hero jumped a bit as the cat, Lev, appeared out of nowhere and rubbed up against his calf. “Fine, us.” Lev purred, sending pleasant vibrations up Tadashi’s leg. “Well, you don’t seem too worried. Has he done this before? Just locked people in places?” Tadashi knelt down to pet the cat. “Maybe Kozume will come to let us out?”

  
Lev yawned and rolled over. Tadashi got the feeling that the cat didn’t plan on moving for a while. With a resigned sigh, Tadashi leaned against the beaded wall. What to do at a time like this? When he was younger, Tadashi’s mother told him that, when he was in need, he could always find her. Or that when she wasn’t around, the gods would watch over him. As a kid, the words had comforted Tadashi, but now they just made him snort.

  
“They’re not what I thought they’d be like,” Tadashi said, more to himself than to Lev. Growing up, Gods had been legends, all-powerful entities who could grant a wish or end a life in the blink of an eye. They were to be revered, respected and feared. But now, upon meeting them, Tadashi could only see them as terribly, humanly flawed. “They’re kinda just like us, except, more...mystical,” Tadashi noted, thinking back on the magic stairs, the odd physical features, and, of course, the transformed cat resting by his side.

  
“At first they seemed so intimidating….” Tadashi reflected on his first conversation with Kozume. The price of failure had seemed so high, especially when the immortal showed him the Fate that had befallen previous heroes. “But really, they aren’t that bad.” Kozume had described his brothers as killers, apathetic mortal-haters, if some extrapolation could be forgiven. It seemed to Tadashi that Kozume hadn’t done his brothers justice.

  
“Akaashi, well he wasn’t what I expected at all,” He told Lev. The cat blinked lazily at Tadashi, then batted at him with his paw. Tadashi smiled and rubbed the cat’s belly. “He was kind, and helpful, and maybe that’s the kind of god Mama used to tell me to pray to. I guess at some point, I forgot that we’re supposed to love them and fear them all the same.

  
“You know, back when I was on the ship, the slavers all had their different ideas of what the gods were like. Some didn’t care, some thought that their every move was being watched, but pretty much all of them made offerings and prayed and stuff whenever we docked, even the ones who didn’t have reason to. I think they taught me to be a little more scared of the gods, the same way people get scared of storms or sea monsters, like they’re this ominous cloud in the distance.” Tadashi looked down at Lev. “Does that make sense?”

  
Lev looked up at him with wide, green eyes. Tadashi realized with a start that he had been talking to himself the entire time. “I- I think I’m going a bit stir crazy. Is there anything to do in here?”

  
_Oh, and I said that all out loud_ , Tadashi realized. “Whatever, it’s not like there’s anyone here to hear me.”

  
Lev let out a disgruntled mewl as Tadashi got up. “Except for you, Lev, of course. But you won’t snitch on me, will you?” The cat grumbled and turned over. Tadashi took that as a yes.

  
Veritable sea of quilts and enormous loom aside, the room was underwhelming. Bland may even be the word Tadashi would have used to describe it. A couple of sections of the wall were covered with a beaded curtain similar to the one Lev was lounging under. Initially Tadashi had assumed they were for decoration, but now he wondered if they were there to prevent the gods from losing their doorways whenever they weren’t in use.

  
There was other furniture in the room, of course. The wicker armchair and glass table made for a cozy, mismatched center piece, and behind the sea of quilts was a vanity pressed up against the wall. Seeing as one had to slog through a swamp of sheets to get to it, Tadashi wondered why it was even there.

  
Between the table and the loom the latter was far more interesting, but something made Tadashi look back. The shears had disappeared from the table. Tadashi scratched his head. A giant pair of silver shears usually stands out, so how had Tsukishima taken them without his noticing?

  
There was no answer to be found at that time, so Tadashi approached the loom. A sense of unease stirred in his stomach, but not of the godly variety, just his normal anxiety. Tadashi couldn’t get over how huge the loom was; the fact that it was standing without collapsing in on itself boggled his mind.

  
“This had to have taken hours to thread,” Tadashi murmured to himself. “Tsukishima must have the patience of a saint.” But that didn’t make sense. Tsukishima did not seem like the kind of person who would willingly take on such a tedious task.

  
“He didn’t,” Tadashi said, remembering, “Akaashi.” The seemingly limitless bounds of tolerance the dark-haired immortal possessed left Tadashi deeply impressed. That aside, Tadashi still had no idea what he was supposed to do while he waited.

  
“Are there any books, or scrolls in here?” Tadashi asked the air. He checked behind the loom to make sure the gigantic instrument wasn’t hiding a secret passageway, or maybe an entire library. There was nothing there. What on earth had Tsukishima done while Tadashi slept?

  
_Maybe he was just watching me or something_ , Tadashi thought idly. The tips of his ears immediately began to heat up.

  
“Woah, no. “ Tadashi took a step back to distance himself from that thought. “No.”

  
Lev grumbled in amusement. The young hero leveled a glare at the cat. “What’s so funny?”

  
The cat made a noncommittal grunting noise, rolled onto his back, and began to bat at the beaded curtain. Tadashi sighed. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Tadashi looked back at the quilts. The wicker chair stood between him and the table, facing the vanity across the room.

  
_Or facing the place I was sleeping_ , Tadashi’s thoughts betrayed him once more. The young hero felt the back of his neck turn red.

  
“Firefly, you pervert,” Tadashi huffed, trying to inject a little humor into his wayward thoughts. Off to the side, Lev rattled the beaded curtain. “Just come back already.”

  
Tadashi rubbed the back of his neck, willing it to cool down. “That was so inappropriate, my gods,” He muttered. A distraction, Tadashi looked around for a distraction. He picked up the shuttle. It was heavier than Tadashi had expected, solidly built. The frame was rectangular, except at the ends where it tapered into blunt points. The center was a hollow resting place for the spindle, which was thick with thread. Akaashi must have filled that too; the image of Tsukishima taking ages to wind thread around the cylinder didn’t sit right with Tadashi.

  
“So, how does this work?” Tadashi tapped the lacquered hunk of wood and examined the loom thoughtfully.

  
“Don’t even think about it,” A voice griped from, you guessed it, right behind him. Tadashi needed to stop meeting people this way.

  
The young hero turned around. Tsukishima sported the most bewildered and pissed off expression Tadashi ever had the pleasure of seeing. The young hero would have laughed, had the look not been directed at him.

 

“Uh,” Tadashi began, “I can explain-”

  
“Save it,” Tsukishima growled. “And put that down. It doesn’t belong to you.” He hadn’t really planned on messing with the loom, it looked way too complicated, and Tadashi wasn’t in a hurry to add property destruction to his ever-growing list of petty crimes. On the other hand, defying Tsukishima just for the heck of it looked more and more fun each passing second. But in the end Tadashi grudgingly complied.

  
“So why did you do that?” Tsukishima demanded.

  
“Why did I do what?” Tadashi asked. His mind raced to recall every single transgression he could have possibly committed while Tsukishima had been out of the room.

  
“Invoke my name in order to call me a pervert.”

  
Tadashi was thrown for a beat. “I...didn’t mean to?”

  
“You didn’t mean to,” Tsukishima deadpanned. “You didn’t mean to use my name, no not even, you used the _meaning_ of my name, which is about one hundred times as potent, to summon me back here, and call me a _pervert_? Yamaguchi, be honest, were you sent by someone to test me? Is this another god’s idea of a joke? If you tell me which god put you up to this, I promise to let you off mostly unsmitten.”

  
Tadashi stared at him. “Did you, did you mean “unsmited?”” He asked slowly.

  
“What did I say?”

  
“Unsmitten. But I don’t think either of those are actually words either.”

  
“...You said either twice.”

  
The two boys locked eyes. Tadashi offered Tsukishima a weak grin. Tsukishima’s mouth twitched. They both promptly burst out laughing.

  
Tadashi leaned against the frame of the loom, too weak with relief to support himself. In front of him, Tsukishima doubled over, the beginnings of tears starting to form in his eyes. It felt good to laugh, to take a minute and release all of the tension that had been building up for the past year. The hours of traveling by road, bartering with strangers for rides and food, even the intermittent sea sickness he suffered while traveling to the Fates’ island melted off his shoulders. Tadashi felt a little lighter, a little cleaner, and more focused on the task at hand. His father had once said to him that it was a lack of respite which broke a man, not an overabundance of responsibility. Tadashi had moved nonstop for six whole years, and he finally had his break.

  
“I-I can’t believe you called me a pervert,” Tsukishima huffed, straightening up. His voice shook from repressed laughter. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

  
“I can’t believe you’ve had other gods prank you,” Tadashi exclaimed. “Are you serious? They played practical jokes on someone as scary as you?”

  
“If you think I’m scary, wait until you see some of their ugly mugs,” Tsukishima muttered, causing Tadashi to snort. “How did you know my name in the first place? Wait don’t tell me, Kenma?”

  
Tadashi nodded, “Yeah, but don’t be mad at him, he may not have meant to,” Tadashi said, thinking back to how the god’s sigh of exasperation turned into his younger brother’s name. Perhaps Tadashi should have taken the hint.

  
“For someone so quiet, he sure can’t keep a secret,” Tsukishima sighed. He slung the bag over his shoulder. Tadashi properly noticed it now for the first time, but held back on asking about it.

  
“If it’s a big deal, I promise I won’t say it to anyone else,” Tadashi said earnestly. “I won’t use it against you or anything.”

  
“You don’t seem like the type,” Tsukishima admitted. “Still, I’d prefer if you didn’t do that again. It can be unpleasant, suddenly getting the urge to drop what you’re doing and attend to some mortals whims.” He gave the mortal in question a pointed look.

  
“Heh, sorry Tsukishima.” Tadashi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “But in all fairness you did lock me in here without explanation.”

  
“I did?” Tadashi almost laughed at the look of genuine confusion that crossed the god’s face.

  
“Well, yeah,” Tadashi said. “I can’t make doors appear out of nowhere.”

  
“Oh. Right.” Tadashi could have sworn he saw a red flush creep up the god’s pale neck. Tsukishima coughed. “Well, I was getting these.” He dumped the rucksack unceremoniously on the floor. Tadashi gave him an inquisitive look before bending down to retrieve it.

  
_He couldn’t have handed it to me like a normal person_ , Tadashi thought wryly. _That’d be too considerate._

  
“And these are…?” Tadashi asked as he picked up the deceptively light pouch. It was fashioned from a coarse, brown yarn that made Tadashi’s hand itch.

  
“What you came here for.”

  
Tadashi nearly dropped the bag. Tsukishima’s mouth twitched into a knowing smirk. Tadashi was wary of that look. Could it be that easy?

  
“Of course, there’s still the matter of payment to be discussed.” And the other shoe dropped.

  
“Payment,” The word felt heavy on Tadashi’s tongue, but he ignored his growing apprehension. “Right. So, do you want me to build you a temple? Fight a monster? Give you my first born…?” Gods grant favors in return for favors, that was how most legends went. Of course, that only accounted for the legends that survived to be told.

  
“No, maybe, and definitely not,” Tsukishima said, waving his hands dismissively. “It’s been said that the ability to decide your own Fate is worth-”

  
“One hundred lives,” Tadashi finished. He stared at the rucksack, unable to take his eyes off of it. The weight seemed much greater now than it had when Tadashi first picked up the bag. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

  
Tsukishima gave him an irritated look. “So you mentioned. Multiply that by a crew of sixty, give or take.”

  
Tadashi’s poked his tongue out to moisten his lips. “58 I think. That’s how many there were when I last saw them”

  
“5800 lives.” Tsukishima let out a low whistle. Tadashi waited. The god seemed content to take his sweet time. “That’ll be hard to pay off. Do you have some gold stashed somewhere?”  
“You don’t want gold,” Tadashi protested impatiently, “just tell me what I have to do.”

  
“Alright. I want 5800 lifetimes of service,” Tsukishima said flatly. “It’s a fair trade.”

  
“Deal,” Tadashi didn’t stop to think. It was rare, but there were families who dedicated their lives to a particular god, passing the torch to their children and then on to their children’s children. Tadashi hadn’t planned on having a family, but there were worse ways to spend one’s life. 5800 lifetimes sure was a lot though, Tadashi had to wonder if his descendents would be able to keep it up.

  
_Well if they can’t, at least it won’t be my problem,_ Tadashi thought.

  
“You suddenly have a selfish look on your face.” Tsukishima squinted at the mortal.

  
“N-no I don’t!” Tadashi protested. He didn’t know what that even looked like, but Tadashi sure as hell didn’t want Tsukishima noticing.

  
“There’s one more thing,” Tsukishima added. As Tadashi waited expectantly, the god’s face stretched into a vulpine smile. “I want you to repay all of your debt _personally_.”

__________________________________________________________

 

The sun was bright over the open waters, and hardly a cloud marred the mediterranean blue of the sky. A strong wind blew from the south, allowing the skiff to skim over the vibrant water like an arrow. Tadashi stood on the deck, enjoying the humid sea air as it swept over his face. Gulls chattered overhead, informing the hero that land was close at hand.

  
An island loomed in the distance, barren crags prodding the mist like the crooked fingers of an earth giant. Tadashi adjusted the rudder and angled his craft towards the hidden entrance to a bay. Over the last year, his sailing had improved drastically. Ferrying himself around from one port to another and buying freedom for his people had given Tadashi plenty of experience at sea. He even shook off his seasickness.

  
Just shy of two years ago, Tadashi had set out with a mission in hand. He had traveled well-marked roads and mountain trails, crossed twisting channels and placid lakes. He had taken to the remorseless sea, bearer of his misery, but she delivered him faithfully, so now he harbored no ill-will. With the end of his journey in sight, Tadashi felt peace.

  
The fog was cool against Tadashi’s skin as his vessel pierced the island’s misty shroud. For a minute, he was blind, drifting helplessly through nothingness. The boat shuddered as it passed through the breakers, and then he arrived at the other side. The prow of the boat pushed onto the sandy shore with a muted groan. The temperature on this side seemed different, as if an electric charge heated the air instead of the sun.

  
A plain dirt road took Tadashi away from the beach. Rocky sand gave way to sandy soil, home to dusty succulents and creepers. On the side of the mountain, Tadashi knew he would find the entrance to the cavern on a shelf of dark rock.

  
The mid-morning light caught motes of dust in their beams. Nothing else moved. The tapestries which had been so alive the first night Tadashi made his way into the cavern hung stationary, flanking the hero as he passed. His footsteps echoed through the dry air, declaring Tadashi’s presence to the waiting corridor.

  
A wisp of smoke floated up in front of Tadashi. The hero smiled to see the dust motes dance out of the way of the words “ _Welcome back_.” Kenma was nowhere to be seen, but Tadashi thanked him regardless. His voice had deepened while he had been gone. It reverberated down the halls, hopefully carrying his message to the withdrawn deity.

  
When Tadashi came upon the stairs, he paused. A door here was akin to a portal; unless you were divine, your destination could not be guaranteed. The fact that the door appeared to be there was encouraging. If it had been a wall, he may have felt compelled to do something stupid, like knock. Instead, we walked through, and nearly tripped over a pile of quilts.

  
“That’s different,” Tadashi gasped as he regained his footing. The room looked much the same, soft yellow lighting filled the corners, and sections of the rough-hewn wall, like the one he emerged from, were covered in strings of colorful beads. The loom still stood against the far wall, which meant that where Tadashi stood, the vanity used to be.

  
Some things had changed. The sea of quilts was now a mountain of quilts; the recess where they lived having been cleared out and lined with cushions for proper seating. The evicted sheets had been left in the middle of the floor, not even pushed up against a wall. Tsukishima must have gotten lazy, Tadashi figured. Another thing that caught his attention was the loom. It too had been moved, rotated ninety degrees so that it faced the adjacent wall, almost on top of a curtain of beads. Tadashi crossed the room to examine it.

  
He had to look twice; his eyes had played tricks before, but the vision was real. A thousand threads had been united, interwoven, into one fantastic work of art. His face dominated the piece, youthful, euphoric, tilted up to welcome a shower of nebulous stars. The colors themselves were worthy of exaltation. Rich blues and greens crept up from the base, slowly melting into a deep purple reminiscent of twilight. Silver stars dotted the top, bright against the plum background. They formed intricate patterns as they slowly descended over Tadashi’s face. Stardust settled everywhere, his hair, his shoulders, the joyful creases around his eyes. Sparkling points of light marked his cheeks, finding a home among his freckles and acne scars. Tadashi’s eyes lingered on his portrait’s jubilant smile, and he tried to remember the last time he'd been so blithely happy.

  
“Wow,” He murmured, afraid to breathe lest the tapestry somehow unravel. His hand hung in the air, suspended between the desire to explore the lifelike work, and the fear of destroying it inadvertently.

  
“Thanks.” The beads next to the loom parted with a rustle, and Tsukishima entered. The god was exactly as Tadashi remembered him; tall, willowy, almost larger-than-life. His gunmetal shift had been exchanged for a one-shouldered toga of the same color, gold cord cinched snugly around his waist. But somehow the air around Tsukishima was more subdued. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, hands picking restlessly at the edges of his robes, or the soft, almost gentle way he looked at the loom. “Before you ask, I had some help.”

  
“Kozume and Akaashi?”

  
Tsukishima nodded. “Hard to pull off without all of us.”

  
Tadashi smiled warmly, “Miracle workers.”

  
Tsukishima scoffed. “Gods,” he corrected, a hint of irritation coloring his face. That seemed more like the Tsukishima of one year ago.

  
“That’s right, gods,” Tadashi said as he breezed past the loom, making a beeline for the wicker chair in the center of the room. “Thank you, Tsukishima, I had almost forgotten.”

  
“How long do mortals’ memories last, Yamaguchi? It seems terribly short to me,” Tsukishima quipped as he glared after Tadashi. But he ceded the chair without a fight, taking the loom’s stool for himself.

  
“Longer than a year. Gods forbid I start losing my mind at the ripe age of fifteen,” Tadashi said good-naturedly. Tsukishima exhaled excessively through his nose. Whether it was a laugh or a sigh, Tadashi couldn’t tell.

  
A silence fell between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Tadashi crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. A stray splinter tickled his arm, but he didn’t mind. Tsukishima seemed to be far away, staring at his clasped hands as though they held the answer to life. It was unusual for Tadashi to feel bigger than him, but the stool was much shorter than the chair, and the god slumped forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

  
“I wonder if I’ll grow taller than you,” Tadashi mused. “You don’t age, right? I grew a centimeter while I was gone. I could pass you, Tsukishima.”

  
Tsukishima frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  
“I was just thinking,” Tadashi said, “I’m going to grow up and grow old working for you, because those were our terms. It occurred to me that I might get taller than you.”

  
“You won’t,” Tsukishima said. “Gods can alter their appearance at will.”

  
“Oh.” Tadashi deflated slightly. “Ok.”

  
Tadashi slouched, resting his chin on his chest. He hadn’t really expected that he’d be able to anything over a literal _god_ , but somehow Tadashi felt just a little cheated. He snuck a glance at the god; he seemed so young, Tadashi’s age, more or less. A strong jawline, but just a hint of baby-fat, and no part of his face seemed like it would ever crease and wrinkle. Tadashi was aware of his staring. He made sure to look forlorn, so that the god wouldn’t guess his thoughts.

  
“Why are you doing that?” Tsukishima asked, a note of concern coloring his voice.

  
Tadashi gave him a look. “Could you be a little more specific?”

  
Tsukishima fidgeted with his hands, first steepling them, then pressing them flat against against his knees. “Look,” he said, holding his hands out in front of him. “If something’s bothering you, tell me. We’re going to be...working together for a long time. Better to hammer it out now than push it off.”

  
Tadashi regarded him with surprise. _Maybe he can change_. “I...was pretending to sulk to see if you’d do the shapeshifting thing,” the hero sat up a little straighter, “but it sounds like there’s something _you_ want to talk to _me_ about.”

  
Tsukishima’s eyebrow twitched.

  
Tadashi leaned forward in his seat and said earnestly, “We’re going to be working together for a long time, you should just tell me now.” He felt a little bad about teasing, but he’d take his licks where he could get them.

  
The temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees as a result of the icy look Tsukishima leveled at Tadashi. The hero laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

  
“Did I overstep my bounds?”

  
“Remember,” Tsukishima said as he lifted himself off of the stool. “I am a god. You work for me. Mortals who mouth off lose their tongues.”

  
Lose their tongues. Oh gods. Maybe Tsukishima hadn’t meant to be pants-wettingly intimidating in _that_ very moment, but the next time a god loomed over him and threatened to cut out his tongue, Tadashi hoped he wouldn’t let out the same unheroic squeak.

  
The corners of Tsukishima’s mouth turned up in a reserved smile. “Actually, I wanted to do something. Get up.” He turned away and walked over to the loom. Tadashi obeyed, rising and walking around the wicker chair to stand next to his patron god.

  
“Well?” Tadashi crossed his arms over his chest, trying to muffle the sound of his thundering heart. The tongue comment still had him reeling, even though he knew that the god had been kidding.

  
Tsukishima dropped his hand into the pocket of his robe. “I told you once that gods, like mortals, have their own threads.”

  
It hit Tadashi all of a sudden that Tsukishima may be telling him something very important. His mouth went dry, so he licked his lips and waited for the god to continue.

  
“As I’m sure you’ve gathered, a mortal’s thread contains their entire lifespan, their birth, their first steps, their eventual, inevitable death. But more than that, it contains the essence of who they are. If a mortal were to find their string, they’d feel an instant connection to it, a coupling.”

  
“The slavers,” Tadashi cut in, “I didn’t think it would work, that they’d believe me, but when I gave them their threads, er, tapestry, they looked like they found the path to...Elysium….”

Tadashi trailed off as his eyes settled on Tsukishima’s face. The god smiled gently at him, a small, genuine smile that took Tadashi’s breath away.

  
“It’s powerful, being able to control your own destiny. You can do almost anything.” Tsukishima let out a long breath. “The reason gods are so powerful– part of it is due to our strings.”

  
He drew a gossamer moonbeam out of his pocket.

  
“And the fact that we keep them in our possession.”

  
The thread was not impressive, tiny coiled thing that curled neatly in the palm of Tsukishima’s hand, but it was quite beautiful.

  
“It’s not much to look at,” Tsukishima went on, eerily echoing Tadashi’s thoughts, “because there’s no story in it. It only has my discipline and my name.”

  
“Discipline?”

  
“Cutting people’s lives short.”

  
“Oh I get it.” Tadashi squinted at the thread. “Can I hold it?”

  
“No.”

  
“Ok.” Tsukishima frowned. “Why the face?”

  
“I thought you’d be a little more persistent,” he answered. Tadashi had to smile.

  
“Did you want me to be?”

  
“No, but I don’t like being wrong,” Tsukishima said as he pulled a needle out of his pocket.

  
“What are you doing?”

  
Tsukishima didn’t answer. He threaded the moonbeam through the needle and sat down at the loom. Tadashi watched carefully as Tsukishima worked over the tapestry. When he pulled back, the hero could see three glowing characters in the lower right-hand corner, _月島 蛍_.

  
“I’m signing my work.”


	2. Smoke and Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't going to have an update schedule because I'm a bum. But don't worry, I won't be stopping anytime soon!  
> Hope y'all like dialogue.  
> A quick shout out to my incredible beta and my friends for helping me through this chapter. Couldn't have done it without you guys!

Have you ever provoked a boar the size of a large cart? Did said boar chase you into the wooded side of a not-so-large clearing, where you were then forced to face off with two tons of bristle, tusk, and pork? If so, please dial the following number, Tadashi could use your advice;  _ xxx-xxxx. _

“I’m going to kill him,” Tadashi vowed. “Then I’m going to bring him back to life, somehow, and plant his teeth in the earth.”

Tadashi’s legs were rigid with anticipation as he fought the urge to bolt. Facing the boar head-on, sword in hand, he waited for the right moment to leap out of the way of the oncoming charge, but the monster was taking its sweet time. The way it pawed at the tawny earth not ten meters away from him set his teeth on edge. The woods on either side only served to heighten his anxiety. Though, realistically, they would offer cover from the beast, Tadashi felt hemmed in by their tall trunks. His heart fluttered in his ribcage like a songbird cornered by the family cat. His grip on his short, bronze sword (borrowed from Akaashi) was already slick, to the point where Tadashi couldn’t be sure he’d be able to swing it without it flying halfway across the clearing.

“That’s not going to end well for you,” someone mused. Tadashi nearly dropped his sword. He craned his neck to see a pretty, young girl sitting cross-legged on the branch of an elm. She assessed the scene with a careful eye, and slowly shook her head. “Not well at all.”

“And you are?” Tadashi said, more sharply than he meant to. Panic honed his voice into a keen edge. The girl swung her feet out and fell from the branch, but not quickly. Her long skirt swirled around her ankles as she slowly drifted to the ground.

“My name is Yamamoto Akane, but you can call me Akane,” She grinned and curtsied. “I’m the goddess of the east wind. It’s very nice to meet you!”

“I’m–” Tadashi was interrupted by a loud snuffling noise. Across the clearing, the boar shoved its nose into the ground and snorted hard. Akane laughed, a soft, bell-like sound.

“I already know who you are, Yamaguchi,” she said. “I was sent to see how you were doing! And by the looks of it, not well,” she added with a thoughtful expression.

Tadashi wanted to ask who had sent her, but he already had a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Tsukishima sent you to check on me?” Relief and shame warred inside him. The god had felt so strongly that Tadashi couldn’t complete a simple task, that he had sent a babysitter. How pathetic.

“Yup! Apparently you’ve been gone for a while. Is there anything you’d like me to tell him? I’ll be running messages for you two until further notice!”

Tadashi paused, trying to think of something to say. Panic choked his voice. “Uh–” he stared at the two ton pig foraging for truffles not ten meters away. 

_ It must have terrible eyesight _ , Tadashi realized,  _ or it would have seen me and charged. But it’s too busy with the truffles to pay me any mind _ . Somehow that realization didn’t comfort him in the least. The only reason he was still alive was because a fungus seemed tastier than he did.

“I think I need to become a mushroom farmer.”

A girlish titter floated down from above. Akane had taken to the air while he was distracted. “Is that the message you wanted me to relay, Yamaguchi?”

“Ah, no, I’m sorry Yamamoto–” He flushed and tried to collect himself. Why did he have to act so uncool in front of a goddess? A goddess that stared at him with an amused smirk on her face, as though he were a curious animal that caught her attention. 

“I told you to call me Akane.”

“–Sorry, I’m just a little frustrated.” Standing out in the open wasn’t going to help his anxiety. Tadashi ducked behind a large tree to catch his breath. His chest still burned with terror. Putting distance between himself and this monster would be priority number one. It had been stupid of him to go stomping around its cave in the first place. The wind goddess smiled down on him, head tilted inquisitively.  

After a moment of worshipping oxygen, Tadashi found his voice. “Could you ask him what I’m supposed to be doing here? That pig is a LOT bigger than me,” he asked. 

“Alright, Yamaguchi,” she replied, “be right back.”

She flew off fast as the, well, wind, and for a moment he was alone. Tadashi exhaled and leaned against an ancient elm. Somewhere above him a pair of squirrels played in its branches, dodging the sunbeams that filtered down through the forest’s verdant crown. All was peaceful, until an ungodly roar split the air.

Tadashi winced and forced himself to stand. He had to keep moving, at least until he had a plan. For the past four months Tsukishima had been sending him out on what Tadashi dubbed, “hero’s errands,” because they typically involved his risking his life in one fashion or another. The first errand he ran, not two days after he finished moving in, mind you, had involved being attacked by knife-feathered birds. Apparently those very deadly feathers could be fashioned into wonderful needles, as if Tsukishima needed any more. Their beaks and talons had been just as troublesome as their plumage, leaving Tadashi with a few new scars. After he killed, plucked, and roasted half a dozen (they had been surprisingly tasty), Tadashi had gotten a whole week’s rest in the Cave of Fate™ before setting out on his second task. 

Have you ever fought an ocean? It’s not fun.

Four months passed in a similar fashion. Four months of running around, learning things on the fly, and encountering magical creatures for which the hero didn’t even have names. It was thankless work.

_ So much for relaxing _ , Tadashi thought. His epic quest had become a series deadly chores, each more draining than the last.  _ I wonder if I get vacation days. _

Now, Tadashi stumbled around monster-infested forest on a misguided quest to find and kill a wild boar. Well, he’d certainly found it.

There was no road this deep in the forest, not even a hunter’s path. Tadashi tripped over undergrowth, catching his balance on massive trees, and tried not to step on any chipmunks. The forest was alive around him; birds called from the treetops, small mammals ran up trunks and under bushes, and the heady drone of insects filled the air. 

Tadashi never thought himself one for nature, but he’d never had much chance to truly enjoy the countryside, having lived by or on the sea all his life. The sunlight felt warm and good on the hero’s skin and aching muscles, and the air was fresh and clean, if slightly polluted by pollen. Under different circumstances, he may have enjoyed a trek through these woods.

Tadashi was trying to navigate a rotting log when a swift breeze nearly bowled him over. 

Akane materialized at the hero’s side. Her light hair was pulled up in long, wind-blown twintails that fell to her waist. She wore a creamy silk chiton whose hem fell past her feet and dangled in the open air. Her eyes were somehow both dark and bright at the same time; adventure seeking eyes, his father would have told him. Tadashi took a step back to prevent her hair from blowing into his mouth.

“I have a message for you Tadashi,” she sang. She smiled at him, a breezy, carefree smile that made Tadashi feel a little bit lighter. Then a roar shook the trees. A squirrel screamed as it fell from its branch, and the forest fell silent. Akane didn’t seem to mind. She kept on smiling, waiting for Tadashi’s response.

“Thank you, Yamamoto–”

“ _ Akane _ .”

“Yamamoto,” The hero said firmly. “I’m not comfortable using your first name. I barely know you.”

“I know.” The wind goddess pouted. “But I don’t get out much...and I want to be your friend!”

Tadashi suppressed a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. He groaned inwardly to feel how greasy it had become. He would kill for a bath.

“What’s the message?” Tadashi asked, hoping she wouldn’t be mad at him for dismissing her feelings. The slight went unnoticed; Akane had already moved on, and was examining the fallen squirrel. Its leg twitched nauseatingly. “Uh, Yamamoto, maybe you shouldn’t be poking that.”

“Oh, sorry.” She returned her attention to the hero. “He said ‘if you’re too pathetic to kill it, just come home.’”

“Seriously?” Tadashi asked, incredulous. “Three weeks it takes me to get here and find this damn thing, and he wants me to drop it? Without even trying?” That had been three weeks on the road, three weeks without baths, three weeks sleeping under the stars– well that last bit hadn’t been  _ that _ bad, but he was still pissed!

“Between you and me,” Akane whispered conspiratorially, “you won’t be able to hurt a beast like that with that little pig-sticker.” She pointed to the scabbard on Tadashi’s side.

“What makes you so sure?” Tadashi asked. Not that he doubted the goddess, but he had on sound authority that swords were good for killing things, and Akane seemed, for lack of a better word, airheaded. 

“If you’re hunting boar,” Akane paused as a snuffling sound erupted from beyond the trees. Several birds took wing. Tadashi wished he could follow them, “you’ll need a hunting spear. Boars charge. If you catch it on the spear as it runs you down, then you’ll kill it. And hopefully not die in the process.” She added that last part like an afterthought.

Tadashi glanced down at his xiphos, now sheathed. It was a fairly standard short sword, bronze with a heavy leather hilt. For a loaned weapon it fit Tadashi’s hand surprisingly well, and its balance made it easy for the hero to swing in spite of his lack of experience. But Akane sounded confident, enough so that Tadashi found he believed her. 

He groaned in frustration. “Three weeks, it took me three weeks to get here and track this thing down, and now I can’t even kill it!” Akane gave him a sympathetic look.

“I can give you a hand. Anything to keep me out of the cave.”

“No that’s fine, Yamamoto.” He didn’t ask what cave. He’d had his fill of caves for the moment. 

Tadashi grimaced and looked around. Without path markers, the trees all looked the same. Tadashi had gotten turned around after Akane swooped in, so he couldn’t even be sure which way was east. 

“Actually,” he loathed to ask, but he was in trouble, “could you give me a lift back to my ship?”

“I can do you one better,” she said cheerfully. “I can put a wind in your sails all the way back to– uh, Misaki’s throne room?”

“No,” Tadashi said quickly. “It’s an island, not too far off land. Didn’t you just go there?”

“Oh you’re right!” Akane laughed. “I don’t know why I mixed that up.” She held her hand out to the hero, a silent proposition.

Tadashi’s stomach churned with anxiety, but he accepted her offer graciously. Something told him that a scorned wind goddess would be much scarier than a giant boar.

Her smile was blinding. “Oh, before I forget: don’t let go, and don’t open your mouth.”

“Why my mou– AGH,” the breath flew out of Tadashi’s lungs and what felt like wall of solid air hit him in the face. 

Flying was not what Tadashi expected. For starters, it was heart-stoppingly terrifying. That high up, the air leeched all of the moisture from Tadashi’s already-chapped lips. Breathing became a challenge; it felt like every gulp of oxygen flew past too quickly to be caught. If he had opened his mouth, Tadashi was sure his tongue would have shriveled up and fallen out. Everything smelled sharp, and his nostrils burned from the cold. If he had the courage to open his eyes, Tadashi may have looked down and seen the countryside from a dizzying new perspective, but he kept them screwed shut and hung on for dear life. The wind became a dull roar, like blood rushing past his ears. Tadashi wondered if his body was all there, he felt so numb. Akane’s laughter cut through the noise, high and clear, and full of joy. Tadashi struggled to keep his grip on her wrist; it had become slippery, insubstantial, as though dissolving into zephyr. 

_ If I survive this,  _ Tadashi thought,  _ I am going to  _ **_kill_ ** _ him. _

They traveled miles in a manner of minutes. The scope of a god’s power both thrilled and terrified Tadashi. He cracked one eye open and was floored by the sight of the sea, a clean blue line on the horizon that grew with every hammering heartbeat.

They soon arrived at port. And by arrived, Tadashi of course meant fell out of the sky.

Surprisingly, a teenager crash landing in the harbor failed to turn many heads, and not for lack of an audience. The bustling seaport may have had too much going on for Tadashi’s appearance to be properly noticed. Dozens of workers scuttled around the docks, unloading cargo, dragging oversized nets, barking orders, all under skies the same mediterranean blue as the water.

“Oops, sorry about the landing,” Akane’s voice sounded in his ear. “I didn’t realize it would be so crowded! Have to keep a low profile, and all that.” Tadashi twisted in the water, searching for the goddess, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“You couldn’t have dropped me on dry land?” Tadashi groused.

“That could have killed you! You should thank me.”

“Thank you, Yamamoto,” Tadashi sighed. The water was refreshing, but chilly. He quickly stroked to shore.

His clothes clung to him heavily once his feet found solid ground. Tadashi did his best to wring out the excess water, and straighten his tunic, but it still managed to twist and become awkwardly folded around his legs. He ended up waddling awkwardly to the end of the dock, earning more than a few strange looks in the process.

He stumbled over to his skiff. The narrow, flat-bottomed craft sat low in the water, dwarfed by the merchant and fishing vessels docked near it. They would be crewed by dozens of seasoned sailors who traveled all over the Mediterranean, whereas Tadashi’s little boat had been bought off of a retired clammer, and had until recently only seen the mouth of a small bay

He wasted no time getting under way. Tadashi unhooked his xiphos from around his waist and stored it in a compartment near the prow. It would only hinder his movements now that he was out of stabbable danger. Not that it had proved useful on this particular quest anyhow.

He untethered the skiff from the dock and cast off. A warm, almost playful breeze ruffled his hair as Tadashi adjusted the sails. True to her word, Akane filled the jib with wind, and they pulled smoothly out of port. 

The docks and their city disappeared around a bend as the skiff traveled along the shore. Tadashi sat at the rudder, keeping an eye on the current and the depth of the water as best he could. For once he didn’t have to worry about the wind’s sudden changes, so he tied the sails down tight and focused on steering.

Akane materialized next to him, twintails swaying gently as she rocked back on her heels.

“This is really pretty,” she said, eyeing the countryside as it flowed by. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a boat.”

“Why would you need a boat?” Tadashi asked, remembering his frightful trip off the highlands. “You can fly.”

“Well, it’s less about the journey and more about the company.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.” Akane nodded sagely. “I’d love to be able to get out more, to talk to strangers like you and those men back at the port. Good company can be hard to come by.”

Tadashi frowned. Sailors and dock workers weren’t what he’d call “good company,” especially for a goddess. “So why don’t you go out? And why did you hide when we were there? I’m sure if you wanted to make friends….” He trailed off. Come to think of it, she probably wouldn’t have made  _ friends _ there; anyone who wasn’t busy working wasn’t worth knowing, that Tadashi could be sure of.

Akane chewed her lip. “Mortals can be difficult to deal with. If they see us granting a favor to one of you, then they all think they’re entitled.” She wrapped one of her twintails around her left hand. “And once they have that idea in their heads, it’s all over. They become presumptuous, arrogant. Vindictive even. There’s really no reasoning with those kinds of people. Besides, I’m under orders; I’m to help you and only you, Yamaguchi.”

Tadashi felt himself flush. Even the constant, steady breeze that Akane supplied wasn’t enough to cool his heated neck. “Yeah...about that. Why did Tsukishima send you? How could he have known that I was...having trouble?”

_ You mean  _ **_failing_ ** _ , _ a little voice in the back of his mind whispered.  _ Don’t try and pretty it up. _

“Tsukishima realized that the monster you were hunting was, shall we say, above of your pay range.” Akane snorted. Tadashi looked at her crossly, but she just laughed it off. “He discovered after you left that it, uh he said  _ spawned _ , from the Calydonian Boar herself, and that you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” She gave him a sympathetic look. Tadashi fixed his eyes on the horizon, and tried not to meet her gaze. 

“Which was completely fair! I mean, the thing’s mother took  _ dozens _ of heroes down before she was killed. Grown heroes too, not that you’re not strong, Yamaguchi, but well, you’re a little scrawny.”

“Yeah? I’ll start working out,” He said half-heartedly.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said. Tadashi looked back at the goddess, and was surprised to find that he believed her. Her hands were wrung together, held high against her chest. She didn’t seem condescending or haughty at all, just concerned. Tadashi felt bad for being so cross.

“It’s fine, you didn’t offend me,” he assured her. “I know I’m nothing special.”

“Hmm,” she said. “That’s not true.” Tadashi looked over to find her staring into the distance, expression placid. The wake of the boat spread out behind them, a broken blue-green winged by white foam. Akane’s breeze stirred her hair, lifting her twintails lazily off her shoulders.

“Um.” Tadashi coughed awkwardly, and changed the subject. “So, why don’t you get out much?”

The goddess’s peaceful mien crumpled into a frown. 

“Sorry,” Tadashi backpedaled, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Yeah,” Akane said softly. “But it’s alright! I don’t mind talking about it too much.”

She sat down on the deck next to Tadashi. The hero scooted over to give her room. 

“I live with my three sisters in a cave near the end of the world. My sisters are a lot stronger than I am. They can bring storms and droughts and tempests, so they get called on far more. Whenever a god needs the wind, one of them gets to leave.”

She pulled her legs up to her chest and leaned on Tadashi’s shoulder. The young hero didn’t complain. 

“But not me, not usually. So when I  _ do  _ get to go out, I get a little...overly enthusiastic,” she shot him an apologetic smile. Not knowing what to do, Tadashi smiled back. “I try to stay out as long as possible because who  _ knows _ when I’ll next have the chance. And– yeah. That’s about it I guess. I’m just not that useful, but I’m glad I could help you, Yamaguchi.”

“Me too,” the hero said sincerely. “The thing you said about getting a spear, that’ll probably save me from becoming mince meat.” 

Akane laughed. It was a nice sound. 

“You’ll have to learn how to use it too. It’s like,” Akane grunted as she stood, “like–” she cast her eyes around. It was a small boat. She quickly picked up one of the oars stowed along the starboard side. “Like this!” She assumed a wide stance with feet turned towards Tadashi. She easily held the long part of the oar in front of her despite its weight.

“You can fight?” Tadashi asked, surprised. 

“I’ve picked up a thing or two,” she responded mysteriously. 

Tadashi grinned. “Show me.”

The skiff sped calmly over the waves as Akane and Tadashi sparred. She did her best to demonstrate proper form and basic footwork despite the lack of space. It was slow going. They only had the oars to work with, so Tadashi pretended that he was in the woods once more, facing down the boar as it turned away from its truffles to run at him. He held steady. He learned how to brace himself on the flat of the oar, and absorb the force with his legs. Akane was a good teacher. She explained things slowly, and precisely, as though she were learning alongside him. The sun had begun to set by the time they sat down, winded and content. 

“I wish I could show you how single-handed spears worked,” Akane explained, “but I’ve never seen one used. It probably wouldn’t help against the boar.”

“This is good,” Tadashi assured her. “I’m willing to bet that thing will run just  _ seeing _ me with this oar.” 

Akane laughed loudly. “Oh yeah, you’ll give it quite a scare.” 

The sun dipped into the sea, setting the water aflame. Sunsets at sea were always dazzling, the way the light scattered across the waves, creating a mosaic of reds and oranges that would slowly fade to purple and black as twilight descended.

“You can sleep,” Akane said. “I know how to steer.”

“Thank you, Yamamoto, but I’m going to stay up until the stars come out,” Tadashi said. He liked the gentle rock of the boat. It was small, more particular than that of the slaver’s ship, like a cradle. Actually, that was a little embarrassing wasn’t it….

“Why?”

Tadashi hummed. “No special reason, I just like to see them. They come out just to see us, my mom used to say, but honestly, we’re not much to look at. They’re the beautiful ones.”

Akane giggled. “You have an odd way of looking at things, Yamaguchi.” When she faced the sky, her eyes shone like pits of fire. “They were heroes once, some of them. Kinda like you, did you know that?”

He snorted. “I’m not a hero.” 

“Well, maybe not yet,” Akane said with a knowing smile. “But carry on like you have been, and I’m sure you’ll get there. Mortals who become involved with gods don’t usually have a choice in the matter.”

“It feels like you guys make up rules as you go along,” Tadashi groused good-naturedly. “Makes it hard to play the game.”

“It shouldn’t be a game for you,” Akane said firmly. “For us, there’s no such thing as ‘Game over.’ We don’t live as you do, and death doesn’t have the same hold on us. Gods can afford to change the rules; mortals like you just have to do your best to follow them.”

“But–” Tadashi was chilled. The sun dropped below the horizon, completing its journey across the sky. Twilight bathed them in its dusky glow, making the air seem hazy. It was an inbetween state, with no sun or stars to brighten the dark.

“Ah, I wonder who was driving today.” Akane said distractedly. Tadashi could tell that she had already lost the thread of the conversation, preoccupied by whatever thought ran through her mind, but he couldn’t stop thinking of them, the heroes who became involved with the gods. The heroes whose lives had been commandeered by a higher power, just like his.

Day faded away, and with it the horizon, the shore. Everything but the ship. Twilight swaddled them, lifting the skiff from the sea and into a separate plane of nothingness. If not for the sound of waves hitting the hull, nothing could have convinced Tadashi that they were on earth, where a human and a god could spend hours fighting imaginary enemies, but it would only be a game for one.

p>

* * *

Dawn broke, prodding Tadashi awake with its rosy fingers. True to her word, Akane had piloted the skiff through the night, and continued to do so as Tadashi took his breakfast. Afterwards, he took over, freeing the goddess to stand at the prow and gaze at the azure waters. Just before midday, a mist-shrouded island appeared off the main land.

“I’ll be going now,” Akane said, eyes fixed on some point in the distance.

“Oh?” Tadashi replied, struggling to keep the ship on course through a particularly strong current. “We’re not there yet?”

“Yes, but,” Akane pointed to a dark patch of sky peeking out over the hilly countryside, “that’s my sister Runa. She might be looking for me. Like I said, I’m not supposed to be out long.”

That hadn’t been exactly what she said, and Tadashi knew it, but he remembered the way her expression had changed last night, and decided against mentioning it.

“She can’t help but bring storms wherever she goes, so I should leave before she gets this far.” Akane had a sad look in her eye. It made Tadashi feel bad for her.

“Hey,” he said, “I’ll call for you again soon. We can fight the boar together.”

Akane stared at him, lips parted slightly. “Really?” Her mouth thinned into a wide smile when she saw he was being serious. “Thank you, Yamaguchi! I’ll hold you to that!” Tadashi smiled with her, he couldn’t help it. Akane’s fighting spirit was infectious. The wind goddess dissolved into a brisk breeze that sped off to the west. 

Tadashi saw a bolt of lightning split the sky. A few seconds later, he heard a distant rumble of thunder, and though the sound was far off, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. But he smiled, and took up the oars. The sun hung high in the sky by the time Tadashi came ashore. A frigid wind whipped past as he let down the sail and stowed the oars. It seemed that Akane had only delayed her sister’s arrival. A storm was coming. Tadashi hurried up the mountain.

Tsukishima waited at the entrance of the Fates’ cave. When he spotted the hero, his usual sour expression brightened.

“Welcome home,” he said politely, hands folded behind his back. 

Tadashi grinned at the god. “It’s good to be back.” 

The tapestries in the front hall shifted in greeting as the duo passed between them. Out of habit, Tadashi waved to his favorites: the dancing dryads, the ship at sea, a portrait of two glowing women whose outstretched fingers shed light over a town being stalked by sickness. But he didn’t pause in front of them like he normally would have. Stopping would let Tsukishima pass him, and Tadashi was more comfortable by his side (And gods forbid Tsukishima actually have to  _ wait _ for Tadashi to catch up. For someone who could make such beautiful things, Tsukishima had no appreciation for art!).

Unintelligible voices floated down the corridor, and, judging by the haze of smoke down near the end of the room, one of them belonged to Kozume. But the other, well, it couldn’t be Akaashi. Somehow Tadashi doubted that either Bokuto or Lev were capable of keeping up a proper conversation. 

“Hey, Tsukishima,” Tadashi said, “do you have guests over?”

“No,” Tsukishima replied with a frown. “There was someone over earlier, but he left.”

Tadashi fought the urge to sneeze when he accidentally inhaled a puff of smoke. 

“Then who is that?”

“No one important, I’m sure.” There was an edge to Tsukishima’s voice that surprised Tadashi. Not angry, but wary, expectant. It left the hero confused.

“Well, why don’t we see?” Tadashi suggested, making a beeline for the door. The curtains around it were pulled back, allowing a glimpse into Akaashi’s room. It seemed more brightly lit than normal, and the voices definitely came from within.

“How about we don’t.” Tsukishima appeared next to Tadashi, and held fast to the mortal’s arm. When they walked through the door, they appeared in Tsukishima’s room, not Akaashi’s. Stupid gods and their stupid portal-doors.

Tadashi freed himself from Tsukishima’s grip, and turned to face him. “What was that about?” 

“What was what about?” Tsukishima replied aloofly. He claimed the wicker chair while Tadashi fumed silently.

“I wanted to say hi to Kozume at least.” The hero found a seat in the sunken area where the sea of quilts used to rest. Come to think of it, the quilt pile was nowhere to be seen. Someone must have finally cleaned it up.

“Believe me, he won’t want to be disturbed,” Tsukishima said. “When does he ever?”

“Hmm,” Tadashi entertained the thought for a moment, lounging comfortably on the cushioned benches built into the recess. “I guess, he likes to talk sometimes when he’s spinning?”

Tsukishima turned that thought over in his mind. “You could be right. It’s an awful tedious task. I guess even an unyielding introvert like him would need to be distracted a little.”

“He talks to Lev a lot,” Tadashi offered. “That’s something, right?”

“Lev doesn’t talk back,” Tsukishima pointed out. “If he did, it would be a whole different story. Kenma doesn’t like interacting with people, plain and simple. Personally, I don’t understand where the difficulty lies, but he deals with it well enough, so I have nothing more to say on the matter.”

Tadashi studied the god carefully, and, upon observing how Tsukishima visibly fidgeted, decided that he  _ did _ have something further to say on the matter. But how to get him to spit it out?

“So,” Tadashi began cautiously. “How did Ken- I mean, Kozume’s smoke ‘thing’ happen?”

“You could just call him Kenma, you know,” Tsukishima responded, dodging the question masterfully. “He wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s told me, but don’t try and change the subject. I want to know.”

The god glanced at the mortal, and upon meeting his burning gaze, gave in with a groan. 

“Fine!” Tsukishima said. “But in return, you have to tell me about the boar hunt.” Tadashi flinched, but nodded his agreement. Tsukishima sank into his seat.

“Where to begin?” he muttered, eyes fixed on the seam where a wall and the ceiling intersect. “It’s really not that great of a story, I don’t know what you expect.”

Tsukishima’s eyes slid over to Tadashi, who was listening raptly. His look told the god that there was no backing out. Stupid stubborn mortals.

“Kenma is antisocial, but when he does strike up a friendship, it’s usually very deep and...shall we say, intimate.” Tsukishima spoke with his hands, accentuating his words with a flourish. “Yamaguchi, have you ever had an intimate friendship in your life?”

“I-” the mortal began, but Tsukishima rudely cut in.

“No, I suppose you haven’t.” Tadashi didn’t miss the way Tsukishima’s eyes darted to the empty loom as he said that. The young hero folded his arms and huffed, but remained quiet.

“One of Kenma’s ‘intimate’ friends, I’d say the most intimate, but I prefer to stay out of Kenma’s business, is the god of the hearth.”

“What’s his name?”

“His name isn’t important,” Tsukishima said with a grimace. 

_ Bad blood? _ Tsukishima was scowling worse than normal. Tadashi filed away that bit of speculation for later, and waited for Tsukishima to continue.

“Long story short...er, Hi- I mean, the god, likes to talk. Maybe it’s the sound of his own voice, or maybe he can’t help but fill the room with as much energy as possible, but he’s always saying whatever comes to his mind. That, in itself, is completely insufferable, but this god expects others to  _ keep up with him _ . Of course, no one does,” Tsukishima laughed humorlessly, and leaned his his head on his hand. “Who could manage it? Certainly not Kenma.

“But this god, he has a way of bending people to his will. Not maliciously, I wouldn’t credit him with enough brains for spite, but something about his energy just sweeps people along, like a tidal wave. Even Kenma gets caught up in it.” Tadashi feigned a look of surprise. 

“Exactly,” Tsukishima said, pulling one leg up underneath him. “But one day, the god decided that Kenma was too difficult to hear. Don’t ask me why he thought so; when Kenma has something he wants to say, he has ways of expressing himself, but this god gifted Kenma with some of his smoke to make his words always seen. 

“Now, no matter how softly Kenma speaks, people will be able to understand him. I think...I think it works for him; Kenma doesn’t generally like being noticed, but with this gift, he can communicate while staying out of the way. He still doesn’t say much, but it’s different now, as though he’s saving his words instead of hiding them.” Tsukishima came off of his speech hunched over, and with one hand pushed into his cheek. It was odd to see such an imposing figure trying to look so small.

“Are you...are you jealous?” Tadashi realized with a start.

“What?!” Tsukishima straightened up indignantly. “Care to repeat that?”

Tadashi grinned despite himself, “My gods, you totally are.”  _ What the hell is happening here _ .

Tadashi had no idea what exactly put a chip on the god’s shoulder, but Tsukishima was acting completely sullen. Once more, Tadashi was struck by how  _ human _ the gods were, how capable of depth and emotion. He had been raised to believe they were haughty, mighty, and having met them (some), Tadashi knew they they  _ appeared _ to be, but in practice? No. Here was a god sulking like a child who lost their favorite toy. It made Tadashi wonder exactly what happened between Tsukishima and this mystery god to leave the former in such a state.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this put-out. What did the god of the hearth do to you?” Tadashi asked earnestly.

“I will smite you,” Tsukishima growled, effectively avoiding the question.

“If you smite me, you won’t be able to collect on my service.”

“I could take your tongue.” 

Tadashi grinned. Feeling bold, he stuck his tongue out. “Come an’ geh ih.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Tsukishima deadpanned. Tadashi hid his relief as he closed his mouth. “And you still owe me a story about your boar hunt. You’re not getting out of it that easily.”  _ Damnit. _

Now it was Tadashi’s turn to scowl. Suddenly, the embroidered couch pillows were  _ very  _ interesting. Tadashi picked at the seams, refusing to meet Tsukishima’s gaze. 

“It didn’t go well,” He said lamely, cheeks beginning to heat up.

“I figured,” Tsukishima said, not unkindly but with very little sympathy. “You were gone for a while.”

He knew he had been gone for a while. Traveling by boat was quick, yes, but also capricious, and Tadashi would hesitate to call himself a hardened sailor with just over a year of experience behind his belt. But he couldn’t blame his sluggishness entirely on the sea; truth be told, Tadashi had a lot of trouble settling into “hero mode,” getting up the confidence to ask for directions, finding lodging and food on his own, even listening in on the local gossip to glean possible leads came with more than a fair amount of apprehension. But maybe he didn’t have to tell Tsukishima that.

“It took me forever to find it,” Tadashi groaned, hanging his head. “You’d think a two-ton boar would have caused more trouble, but apparently it stayed up in the mountains. Most of the towns I visited didn’t even realize there was one hanging around.”

“How many did you visit?” Tsukishima asked.

“Uh,” Tadashi thought back. “Four or five on the coast, and then three once I went inland. The last two actually had some information to give, and then I ended up in the mountains for a couple of days.”

Tsukishima whistled. “No wonder you were gone for three weeks. Did you eat alright? Find shelter?”

“Yeah. I restocked when I needed, and when I was in town I stayed in temples, like you said.”

“Hm,” Tsukishima seemed satisfied by that answer. “Did you get hurt?”

Internally, Tadashi sighed in relief. The questioning was winding down. Tsukishima always asked after his health last. When the hero wasn’t visibly injured, that is. “Only my pride.”

“Tch,” Tsukishima sighed. “You and that pride of yours.” But Tadashi didn’t miss the fond smile that graced the god’s features, if only for a second. 

Tadashi laughed and scratched the back of his head. “You sound like an old man whenever you do that.” He feigned irritation, but really he was grateful that Tsukishima wasn’t pressing the matter further.

Tsukishima lifted an eyebrow. “I  _ am _ an old man. God. Whatever.”

“But you’re young at heart, right?”

Tsukishima let out a long-suffering groan and Tadashi laughed again. It was nice being back. The conversation turned to more pleasant topics, ones neither of them were ashamed to talk about. The mood lightened considerably after that. 

Much to the hero’s surprise, Tadashi found himself comfortable in Tsukishima’s presence. Their friendly banter came easily, and Tadashi couldn’t remember the last time his jokes had been so well received. There was a warmth in the air, something electric and  _ good _ ; it reminded Tadashi of sparring with Akane on his skiff, or watching Akaashi work by the fire. Something about the gods made Tadashi feel heady, as though their presence itself filled him with bliss.

_ It’s no wonder we worship them, _ Tadashi thought, watching Tsukishima’s fervent gesticulation. A seed of warmth nestled itself in the hero’s chest when the god cursed loudly, after having inadvertently swatted the arm of his chair. If it had been a sailor or any mortal really, the yelling and loud movements would have spooked Tadashi. But with Tsukishima it felt different. 

“What are you looking at?” Tsukishima griped, cradling his injured finger.

“Oh nothing,” Tadashi said. “But I was wondering how gods managed to accomplish all those great deeds if they can be so easily vanquished by an armchair.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Gods are completely incompetent. Why do you think we rely so heavily on heros?”

“Wait,” Tadashi blinked in surprise, “you mean you haven’t been sending me on all those pointless errands to mess with me?”

Tsukishima fixed the hero with a tired look. “None of those tasks were  _ pointless _ , I promise you. And yes, it is very rare that my brothers and I embark on our own quests. We need an errand boy.”

Tadashi’s face twitched. “So I’m an errand boy?”

“Among other things.” Tsukishima stuck his finger in his mouth. “Does that upset you?”

“No,” Tadashi deflated a bit, but discovered that he meant it. He wasn’t happy, sure, but he wasn’t disappointed. What else would a mortal be to a god?

“Would you tell me if it did?” He mumbled around the injured digit.

“Of course.” Tadashi frowned. “I owe you that much for helping me.”

Tsukishima searched Tadashi’s face for any sign of insincerity, but found none. “If you say so.”

The light tinkle of glass beads rubbing together announced Lev’s entrance. The long, grey cat padded in, heedless of the conversation he was interrupting. There was something fuzzy and dark clamped between his jaws.

“Ah, there’s our pretty boy,” Tadashi cooed. He scrambled out of the living pit to pet the cat, glad for the distraction. “What do you have there?”

“Probably some dead rodent,” Tsukishima said. “Be careful it doesn’t bleed on you.”

Tadashi made a face. “Don’t be gross, Tsukishima. You wouldn’t bring dead things in here, would you, Lev? No way, you’re a good kitty, yes you are.”

Lev basked in the attention, purring and nudging Tadashi’s hand with his head to ask for scratches. Tadashi willingly complied, pushing his fingers through the cat’s short, dense fur.

“You’re going to spoil him,” Tsukishima commented. “And then he’ll never want to leave.”

“How could you say something so mean, we never want him to leave!” Tadashi exclaimed. “Just look at how sweet he is.”

Tadashi gathered Lev in his arms, an impressive feat since the cat seemed to elongate as the hero lifted, and carried him over to Tsukishima. Lev seemed to accept his fate and go willingly after Tadashi got him off of the ground. At least, he couldn’t protest with the mysterious object in his mouth.

“Ugh, don’t bring him here.” Tsukishima’s face twisted into a mask of disgust. “He’ll shed on me or something.”

“If he does, you can always smite him,” Tadashi said cheerfully. “Besides, your tunic is grey, why are you even worried?”

Tadashi thought he heard the god mutter something about it being a different  _ shade _ of grey, but his ears may have been tricking him. 

“At least see what he’s got there,” Tadashi admonished. “Maybe if we throw it, he’ll play fetch.”

“I can’t believe you want to teach the cat tricks,” Tsukishima said. “That’s so….human of you.”

Tadashi laughed, he couldn’t help it. The god just looked so cute with his face scrunched up like that. “You’re one to talk. I’m pretty sure sending me out on wild boar hunts for fun is the same thing.”

Tsukishima opened his mouth, then shut it again. It was oddly endearing how his cheeks colored when he couldn’t think of a reply. Even gods could be rendered speechless.

“But,” Tadashi said lightly, pulling the toy from Lev’s jaws and holding it out to Tsukishima, “I am  _ not _ a pet. Just for clarification.”

Tsukishima gave him an incredulous look and reached out to take the toy, “Of course you aren’t, why would you even compare yourself to–” whatever offhanded, indoubtably heart-warming comment Tsukishima had been about to make was cut off as the cat toy exploded.

No, not exploded,  _ expanded _ . 

The room went dark as though someone had thrown shades over the windows. Tadashi found himself buried, trapped in a hot, oppressive cave. He gasped for breath and tried to get his bearings. Somewhere directly in front of him, Lev meowed. Tadashi pushed through the thick folds of fabric, and was rewarded with the cool yellow light of Tsukishima’s room. Lev sat next to his toy, grooming himself with a smug look on his face. 

“Was that your idea?” Tadashi asked. Lev neither confirmed nor denied the accusation. He picked up the remains of his toy and sauntered off, completely unbothered by the mess. 

So, the quilt pile had made a dramatic reappearance. Tadashi stared at the mess of sheets, trying to comprehend exactly what just happened, and exactly where Tsukishima had gone. A muffled cursing answered the latter of those questions.

“T-Tsukishima?” Tadashi said hesitantly. He approached the pile shakily, unsure if he should run to get help or fall over laughing right then and there. “You in there?”

“Go away, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima groaned in reply. “I need to meditate on the best way to kill a cat.”

“You don’t honestly think that Lev–”

“ _ Not that cat. _ ” Tadashi was taken aback by the anger in the god’s voice.

“Uh, are you sure you want me to leave? I could help you get out–”

“JUST GO.” 

The hero scrambled away, thoroughly spooked. Something bothered Tadashi about just leaving Tsukishima there, presumably stuck. If Tsukishima had the godly capabilities to zap his way out from under the sheets, wouldn’t he have done it already? Tadashi stopped edging towards the stairs, and stared at the lizard-patterned mass. Should he help? Should he leave? Was there anything he  _ could  _ do to help, because if a god was having difficulty, what could Tadashi even contribute?

“Uh–” 

“For the love of- are you still here?” Tadashi could see movement under the quilt pile. So he wasn’t incapacitated after all.

“I don’t really want to leave you here by yourself,” Tadashi admitted. 

A muffled groan filled the room. 

“I am not a child, Yamaguchi, in fact I am your employer so I am  _ ordering _ you to leave.” The edge in Tsukishima’s voice made Tadashi shiver. 

“With all due respect, Tsukishima, I’m not leaving.” Tadashi crossed his arms defiantly. Now, standing up to a god was not advisable, per se, and Tadashi normally wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, especially not skinny 15 year old mortals who could barely swing a sword, but he really felt he had no other choice. The door had closed again.

Tadashi’s back was pressed up against a smooth, unblemished wall for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

“Have Lev open the door,” Tsukishima read Tadashi’s mind. No, not really, but who didn’t see this coming? But man, having Lev open the door seemed so obvious, Tadashi was a bit ashamed he hadn’t thought of it himself. Lev had been traveling through the temple on his own this whole time, Tadashi just hadn’t noticed. Lev was grooming himself under Tsukishima’s loom just across the room. Tadashi shuffled over.

“Uhm, Lev.” Tadashi cleared his throat awkwardly and squatted to face the cat. “Would you mind, you know, letting me out of here?”

Lev stared back at him impassively, slitted, emerald eyes boring into his. Tadashi shifted uncomfortably and Lev looked away. Why was it so hard to ask for help around here? Actually, asking for help anywhere was difficult. Too used to scuttling around underfoot, Tadashi found it difficult to express his needs to other people. On the ship, if you weren’t part of the team, you were no one. Tadashi had been less than no one; he had barely pulled his weight and earned the right to eat beside the crew.

“Tsukishima this isn’t going to work.”

The god said something Tadashi couldn’t understand, and the sheets shifted again. He was sure now that the god could get out if he wanted to, and was only holding out to be stubborn.

“Come on,” Tadashi said. He walked over to the pile of quilts and started tugging the lumps flat, “get out of there. Let’s go find Kozume and do something fun.” He quickly narrowed (read: flattened) down his options until he located the lump that was Tsukishima. 

“Got you,” Tadashi whispered as he pulled back the quilt.

He wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he finally excavated his patron god. Golden eyes stared up at him, no longer solid chips of amber, but slitted and wary. Tsukishima’s face was flatter, especially his nose which had been squashed to resemble a downwards facing triangle. A pair of silky cat ears flicked irritably on top of Tsukishima’s head, bleeding into his hair almost naturally. Dimly, Tadashi registered that they were calico.

“Uh–” Tadashi stuttered, taking a step back.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Tsukishima said as he flushed with embarrassment. His ears, the human (godly?) ones turned bright pink. “I told you to leave.”

“Da–” Was all Tadashi could manage.

“Great.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes and sat back on his haunches. “My mortal is broken. I’m part cat. I am going to skin that shape-shifter and bury him in a sack of his own fur.”

“Guh–”

“It’s not permanent. I think. Kuroo is an ass, but he’s not a complete sadist. He’s also one of the best shapeshifters I know, so this is probably his asinine way of imparting some of his wisdom on me.” Tsukishima shook his head. For the first time Tadashi was able to make out clear whiskers sprouting from the god’s cheeks.

“Fff–”

“I’ll fix this. Now get that constipated look off of your face,” Tsukishima said wryly. His eyes narrowed, which made them easier to look at, but didn’t help the rest of his appearance one bit.

“Ears,” Tadashi managed finally, pointing to Tsukishima’s head. The god frowned and ran his hand through his hair, hissing slightly when they came in contact with the new appendages

“This may take some time. Now will you leave if I ask you?”

Tadashi nodded. This was not something he felt equipped to handle. He’d never even had a pet before (did Tsukishima count as a pet? Definitely.), but they seemed like a lot of work. Come to think of it, who even fed  _ Lev _ ? No, Tadashi definitely did not want to get involved with a partially-transformed Tsukishima. Oh for the days when knife-feathered birds and giant boar were the most stressful things Tadashi had to deal with. Wait, that was right now.

Tsukishima stood up to unlock the portal/door, and Tadashi had to suppress a surprised yelp as a long bendy tail appeared behind him. Should he mention that? Nah, Tsukishima would figure it out soon enough, probably. As soon as the stairs appeared, Tadashi ran up them without a goodbye. Near as he could figure, a staircase connected Akaashi’s and Tsukishima’s rooms, but the latter’s chambers could be accessed by portal/door from anywhere else in the temple. Of course, he had yet to see Kozume’s room, so maybe that assessment wasn’t completely accurate. 

As always, the shadows thrown by intermittent torches swirled at the edges of his vision, dancing to some pulsating rhythm that Tadashi couldn’t hear. His eyes fought to close, but he made it to the top without collapsing. Tsukishima had assured him that he would eventually get used to it. The stairs were only being friendly, Akaashi had told him (in far fewer words), and in a pinch, if someone tried to hurt the brothers, it would act in their defense (Kozume had mentioned that part). Not that that made  _ any _ sense to Tadashi, but he decided to let the godly mumbo-jumbo lie and focus on not passing out whenever he needed to leave.

Tadashi knocked when he reached the top step. He had been taught that knocking was always the best course of action when entering a room, and that habit had served him well in the past. The door opened, and Tadashi was met with a face full of sweet-smelling smoke. 

“Who are you?” It took the hero a moment to clear his head and spot the speaker, hidden behind a light haze and a dearth of several centimeters. Tadashi glanced down. The god was at least a head shorter than Tadashi, who at that point was still growing, even with the halo of feathery orange curls that pushed from his head like tendrils of flame. His eyes were large and sepia toned, nearly dominating the whole of his face, and they matched the trim of his chiton, as well as the short, oblong cape that hung down his back. The chiton stopped short, just above his knee to show off the god’s lean, athletic calves. “Well?” 

Tadashi choked on his answer as more smoke invaded his windpipe, and spent a mortifying moment trying not to lose his breakfast all over Akaashi’s floor. The stranger backed away with a sympathetic grimace.

“ _ Don’t mind him, Shouyou _ ,” Kozume’s lazy speech drifted by on an unseen wind, pausing in front of the shorter deity. Tadashi easily peered past the stranger’s diminutive stature to spot Kozume seated by the hearth, which, oddly enough, wasn’t lit. He wore a dark red chiton with a white sash, and fiddled with a loosely woven piece of cloth, “ _ he’s just Kei’s new pet hero _ .” 

“Hero?!” The god brightened. No, not figuratively. For a terrifying and very real moment, the small figure burst into flames. Tadashi could only see the outline of his body amidst the homely yellow inferno; it was as though he had spontaneously combusted on the spot. Tadashi backed away from the suffocating wave of heat, and found his back to the wall. 

Fortunately, the god quickly simmered down to a dull blaze. Small tongues of flame flickered erratically over the god’s skin and clothes, creating an uncomfortable, but bearable heat. Unfortunately, once he regained control of his fire, the god began asking questions at a frightening speed. “Are you really a hero? What sorts of feats have you performed? Are you super strong? Can you lift a tree? Will you teach me how to fight with a sword? How old are you, you don’t really look like a hero? But looks really don’t matter. Heroes are soooo cool, I really want to be one. Have you heard of the Little Giant? He’s the absolute coolest hero, you have to have heard of him!” With each question the god crept a little closer and burned a little hotter. Sweat poured down Tadashi’s face, but the stranger showed no signs of stopping. This was it, the end of the line. Barbequed by an overly excited child-god, what a way to go. 

“ _ Shouyou _ !” Just as Tadashi’s clothing began to smolder, a wall of smoke interposed itself between the him and the god. Kozume hadn’t spoken especially loudly, but a dense mass of smoke rolled out of his mouth and hid the hero from the god’s burning gaze.

Tadashi’s first instinct was to cough, but he found that he could breathe again. Kozume’s smoke didn’t hurt the same way the stranger’s did. The oppressive heat had died away too, presumably because the flames had been extinguished.

“What’s wrong Kenma?” The god (Shouyou?) whined. “I was just asking him some questions.”

“ _ You were about to kill him _ ,” Kozume snapped. Well, actually he spoke rather calmly, but his words shimmered when they met the air, and a small, worried crease formed between his eyebrows. “ _ Yamaguchi is mortal, remember? If you didn’t suffocate him, he probably would have died of fright _ .” 

“Oh no...not again.”

_ Again?! _

Tadashi was seriously starting to get tired of these gods and their shenanigans and how they hedged past important details. He wanted some answers.

“Who are  _ you _ ?” Tadashi rasped with a wince. His throat still stung from the smoke and heat, and he was worried that if he stayed in this room for too long, he would lose his voice (or his life, or his mind) completely. He shot Kozume a nervous look. The Fate stared back for a moment, then glanced straight up, realization slowly blossoming on his face. 

“ _ I’ll fix it _ ,” he said, standing up, “ _ but only because it’s not so difficult _ .”

“Huh? Fix what?” Shouyou’s head whipped between the god and the mortal, trying to decipher their unspoken conversation.

“ _ Don’t worry about it, Shouyou, Yamaguchi just needs to breathe, so I need to find that bird-brain and Keiji. Why don’t you introduce yourself? I’ll be back soon. Don’t light anything on fire while I’m gone. _ ”

Tadashi blinked as Kozume shuffled past him. That may have been the most the god had spoken in his presence since they’d met, which was something since he’d been living here for months. 

Anxiety hit him like a punch to the gut as soon as Tadashi watched the Kozume disappear through the doorway. He hadn’t thought the god would need to leave, leave him and the stranger alone, the stranger who had almost killed him  _ accidentally _ . Tadashi turned back to the hot-headed god (ha, that was funny. He’d have to remember that if he made it out of this alive…) who smiled at him. Tadashi smiled back. What else was he supposed to do?

“My name is Hinata Shouyou,” the god said proudly. “Are you sure you don’t know who I am?”

The name stirred a vague recollection in the back of his mind, something snug and warm, but Tadashi couldn’t get a handle on it. He shook his head, and the feeling disappeared.

“Sorry,” Tadashi apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have no idea.”

Hinata’s face fell. “Oh, ok.” He scuffed the floor with his shoe, and for a second Tadashi was worried that he’d upset him. But out of nowhere, the god perked up. “That’s actually great! You won’t try to, oh what’s the word that know-it-all used, pigeonhole me!” His burnt-orange eyes gleamed hungrily, and Tadashi was startled by how closely they resembled Akane’s. Adventure seeking eyes, eyes that fixed themselves on the horizon and pursued it unyieldingly to the ends of the earth. 

“I’m going to be a hero,” those eyes said. Wait, no, Hinata himself was speaking. Tadashi looked at him quizzically.

“I thought you were a god?”

“Gods can be heroes!” Hinata squawked, waving his arms in the air vigorously. Tadashi side-stepped to avoid being socked in the eye. “ _ Everyone _ keeps telling me that it’s impossible, but I  _ really _ want to be a hero, and I’m not going to let  _ anything _ stop me!” 

Tsukishima’s words came to mind,  _ “Gods are completely incompetent. Why do you think we rely so heavily on heros?” _ but here was a god who wanted to  _ be _ a hero, so how did that work?

“Say, Shouyou–”

“Hinata,” he corrected with a small smile. Tadashi’s face heated up from embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said hurriedly.

“Nah, it’s no big deal,” Hinata laughed, “I’m just messing with you. You seem like a pretty decent guy, uh–” Hinata’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what’s your name?” Now it was the god’s turn to be embarrassed. Hinata shuffled uneasily, casting his gaze around as though searching for the answer in Kozume’s lingering smoke. “Hold on...I can do this.” He screwed his eyes shut.

“Uh, Hinata.” Tadashi reached out tentatively. Hinata’s expression was really throwing him off; Tadashi couldn’t decide whether he looked pained, constipated, or really really angry. Hopefully it wasn’t all three.

“I got it!” Hinata exclaimed. Tadashi jumped a bit at the sudden outburst, which was good, because Hinata’s victory dance may have cold-cocked him if he hadn’t put a little distance between himself and the god’s flailing arms.

“Yamaguchi Tadashi” Hinata said knowingly, once he’d calmed down, “it’s been a long time since you’ve prayed to me. But that’s alright, I don’t mind! You haven’t been home in a really long time, so it makes sense.”

Home? Tadashi was confused. What did home have to do with it? He hadn’t been “home” in over seven years. By the time he’d found refuge with the village, he had been old enough to know that he wouldn’t truly be “at home” anywhere, because a home required a foundation, roots. Tadashi was a rolling stone. Every time he tried to settle, someone came and gave him a push. But still, the reminder of home jostled that warm feeling, fanning it just enough remind Tadashi it was there, but not enough that he could see it clearly. 

Something in his expression must have clued Hinata into his thoughts, because the god immediately looked guilty.

“Oh,” Hinata said softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to– that was bad of me. I’m really sorry.”

Tadashi couldn’t tell if he meant it. Everything Hinata did was so over the top, it was difficult to tell whether he was being sincere or overplaying his emotions for Tadashi’s benefit.

“I shouldn’t be bringing other people’s lives up– were you going to ask me something?” Hinata abruptly switched gears. Tadashi was grateful. Allowing the memory to fade, he tried to recall what he had been about to ask Hinata.

“Ah, right. Why is it you want to become a hero? Can’t you just recruit a mortal to help you?”

Hinata chewed his lip. “It’s not  _ really _ that easy. There are  _ never _ enough heroes to go around. I mean, I could just sit by the road side and  _ hope _ some hero comes along, but that seems really boring, and I’d probably get robbed or something in which case I’ll have to order divine punishment for the thieves, and that’s  _ so annoying. _ Besides, I want to go out on adventures, and see for myself what there is to see in the world. Why would I wait around for some mortal to accomplish what  _ I  _ could be having fun doing, you know?”

“Uh,” Tadashi said, “not really–”

“Well listen up then!” 

Tadashi’s eyes narrowed, and he decided right then that he wasn’t all that fond of Hinata, despite the homely, pleasant aura that emanated from his tiny form. Tsukishima had been right, the little god was far too enthusiastic. 

“How about,” someone said as they entered the room, “we  _ don’t _ subject ourselves to whatever excitable drivel is about to spew from your mouth?”

“Tsukishima,” Hinata groaned, “why do you have to be so mean? Is it because Kuroo pranked you? Because that was  _ hilarious _ and Kenma and me both agreed that he should do it. You should really learn how to take a joke!”

“That’s not it,” Tsukishima said, though he seemed less than pleased to find out that Kozume had been in on the scheme. His nose and eyes had been fixed completely, the latter regaining both their proper shape and color, and the clear whiskers were nowhere to be seen. Most impressively, the calico ears that had rested so comfortably atop the god’s head had all but disappeared. Tadashi was sure that he could only see the nubby tips, the same cornsilk-yellow as the god’s hair, because he knew to look. Tadashi was glad to see the Fate, and not just because Tsukishima’s appearance was leagues better than it had been when Tadashi left him.

“So mean,” Hinata repeated. He crossed his arms and puffed air into his left cheek, looking very put-off. Tadashi stifled a laugh. How was it that gods managed to be so ridiculous? Honestly, it was a wonder anyone could take them seriously, though, maybe gods represented an ideal rather than realistic role-models. He’d have to mention that to Tsukishima later. The Fate would eat it up.

“It’s not drivel! Heroes are  _ cool _ , you’re just too stupid to admit it!”

“Right,” Tsukishima dragged the word out. “And if heroes are cool, then what does that make you, you pseudo-olympian reject? Oh, wait, that answers my question.” Tsukishima hung his hands limply as though to say ‘what are you going to do?’ and made his way fully into Akaashi’s chambers. His feet scuffed against the stone floor as he walked to the stool that stood by the hearth. He collapsed into it loosely, allowing his long legs to slide out in front of him and press up against the the walls of the fire pit. “Are you coming, Yamaguchi?”

“Ah, right,” the hero squeaked. He scampered past the fuming Hinata (yes, literally fuming, as in there was smoke rippling off of his form), and came to awkwardly stand beside Tsukishima’s chair. 

“You look better,” Tadashi offered lightly. Tsukishima shook off the praise with a noncommittal grunt. Tadashi sighed inwardly, wondering if he would ever be able to start a conversation properly. He fidgeted with the seams of his chiton and looked away.

“So, I was thinking–” Tsukishima began. Tadashi eagerly returned his gaze to the Fate, but it was immediately torn away once more by an eruption of sound from the other side of the room.

“Well if  _ I’m _ a reject,” Hinata hollered, “then does that make you a  _ subject _ ? Huh???”

Tadashi and Tsukishima looked over at him in surprise.

“Did it take him that long to come up with a retort?” Tadashi wondered aloud.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Tsukishima asked.

“Because, you uh– well you know! You were like, kicked out of, uh, Misaki’s...wait is that how it happened? No you were totally locked up for– oh hold on that was the other guy….” Hinata hunched over with his hand on his chin trying desperately to defend his statement. His incoherent accusations dissolved into mumbling as the god’s face got redder and redder, and soon he was unable to look at the others at all.

“I guess he was just blowing smoke,” Tadashi joked, earning him a grunt of approval from Tsukishima.

“He tries to talk tough like the big kids, but in the end he just embarrasses himself.” Tsukishima smiled, and it was not a kind smile. “How pathetic.”

Tadashi hid his laugh behind his hand. Hinata sulked in the shadows by the dye pits, throwing out the occasional, flustered spark. He was almost pitiful. Almost.

“Is he ok?” Tadashi asked. The better part of him spoke out, as was its penchant. Tadashi ignored the niggling worry that crept up under his ribcage. It always came around when he spoke out of turn. He’d gotten better at ignoring it.

“Hm?” Tsukishima glanced over. “Yeah, probably. What does it matter? The way his mind works, he’ll forget about this conversation the next time the word ‘hero’ or ‘adventure’ is mentioned. Just leave him be. We have better things to discus than B-list gods who gave up their seats of power.”

“B-list?” Tadashi asked, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean by, ‘gave up his seat of power?’” Tsukishima threw him an irritated look, and Tadashi realized that he was, in fact, broaching the topic Tsukishima had not two seconds ago told him to drop.

“Don’t tell him Tsukishima!” Hinata cried out, aghast.

As it turns out, the fastest way to make a petty god do something was to beg him not to do it. A condescending smile crept across Tsukishima’s face. He raised a brow at Tadashi who shrugged in turn. It wasn’t his place to decide whether or not Tsukishima should roast the living daylights out of Hinata, entertaining as it may be.

“Don’t tell him what?” Tsukishima leaned forward, resting his chin on a fist. He smiled a smile that wasn’t a smile. Tadashi could see no joy in it, just a calculated intensity that gave him goosebumps. “Don’t tell him about how you ignobly stepped down from your throne on Olympus because you were too scared to stand up to Oikawa? Or how everyone gave you the cold shoulder once you were out of the picture, and those siblings took your place. Or maybe you mean how you can barely set  _ foot _ in the throne room without looking like you want to piss yourself. Was it any of those?”

“I-I was trying to keep everyone from fighting,” Hinata blustered, face slowly turning a cherry red. “The Grand King had nothing to do with it! M-Misaki was the one who asked me to step down….And I did it because I wanted to!”

“Oh, so a certain god of goddesses had nothing to do with your decision?” Hinata sweated. Tadashi glanced over at Tsukishima, who looked like he was enjoying himself far too much. That boy really had to get out more. “You know, they are partners, no one would be surprised if he was whispering in her ear.”

“Well maybe that’s what got  _ you _ kicked out too! Didja think of  _ that _ , Smartypants?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Hinata and Tsukishima stared at each other, trying to see who would break first. Despite having no idea what was happening between the two, Tadashi could feel the tension so thick in the air he could practically chew it. In the end, it was actually Tsukishima who broke first.

“First of all–” And that was the end of coherent conversation. Hinata and Tsukishima talked over each other, dissolving the entire affair into incomprehensible godspeak strewn with names Tadashi didn’t recognize and incidents outside of his recollection. 

He backed away from fighting slowly, sure that no matter what was going on, he didn’t want to be apart of it.

“ _ What’s with all the yelling? _ ” Tadashi didn’t notice Kozume’s entrance right away, but the soft characters that drifted across his vision caught the mortal’s attention.

“Ah, Kozume–”

“Kenma.”

“Welcome back.” To say he was relieved to see the other Fate would be an understatement. Kozume appeared more ruffled than normal. His wine-red chiton sported a few new wrinkles and one suspicious stain near the hem. His expression was sour and pinched, and he had a pin feather tangled in his long, dark hair. On his shoulder perched a very smug looking owl.

“ _ I refuse to do any more favors _ ,” the god mumbled so Tadashi couldn’t hear. That didn’t stop the hero from seeing though. “ _ Never again. What did I come back to? _ ”

“I wish I could tell you,” Tadashi admitted. They both looked over to the squabbling gods, Hinata, red-faced and fuming, and Tsukishima, attempting to mask his discomfort with a sardonic smile and lilting tone. Kozume sighed heavily. Several choice words floated across Tadashi’s vision, and the hero decided not to comment on them, for decency’s sake. 

“ _ Go fly, Bo _ ’.” The owl took off from Kozume’s arm, generating a gust that blew Tadashi’s bangs away from his forehead. He didn’t soar into the rafters just yet. Instead he circled just out of reach, maybe searching for Akaashi. The owl’s powerful wings quickly went to work stirring the air even as high up as the tapestries near the ceiling. The chamber slowly began to clear of smoke, and Tadashi’s breath came easier. 

Kozume nodded approvingly, and Tadashi sighed in relief. In the middle of the room, the squabbling duo didn’t seem to notice, far too involved in their argument. What were they talking about? Legs??? Oh no, height. Tadashi thought he caught the words ‘toddler’ and ‘giraffe’ (what on earth is that?), but he couldn’t be sure.

“They seem...really energetic,” Tadashi ventured, tearing his eyes away to face the Fate. Kozume picked the pin feather out of his hair and stared at it, lips pursed.

“ _ Shouyou is usually like this. Kei...well, not always.”  _ He twiddled the feather between his fingers and slumped. “ _ It’s been awhile since Shouyou visited. Might be why Kei is so wound up. Felt like….well, nevermind.” _

“Felt like what?” Tadashi probed. Kozume shot him a dubious look, and Tadashi glanced away. But his eyes quickly sought out the Fate’s face once more, and Kozume sighed. 

“ _ Felt like he was being forgotten. We...well, we used to get a lot of visitors. Other gods. Now they don’t come around much anymore. It drives Kei crazy. Keiji and I...cope. _ ” Tadashi’s heart began to pound. This felt like something important, something Tsukishima may not want him to know. He chanced a glance at the god. Nope, still engrossed in his argument with Hinata. He looked less tense than earlier, Tadashi thought. Maybe a little more satisfied. 

“I thought he didn’t like other people?”

Kozume shrugged. “ _ He may not like them, but he needs them. Kei’s too smart to be left alone with his thoughts. He’d lose his mind.”  _ Kozume peered up at him from under long lashes. “ _ So, thank you, I guess.” _

“What?”  Kozume looked at him long and hard. Tadashi’s nerve crumbled under the pressure. “Oh, uhm, never mind...forget I asked.”

Kozume shrugged and reached into his pocket. “ _ You’re too timid. They’re going to walk all over you.” _

“Who’s they?” Tadashi asked. The word floated ominously past his eyes, taunting him with its ambiguity. Kozume pulled a loose weave out of his robes. It unraveled in his hands and reconfigured to make a tight, spiralling shape. Kozume gestured vaguely with the shape, not looking up at Tadashi.

“ _ You know, ‘they.’”  _

Tadashi’s fingers twitched as he fought the urge to shake the immortal. Well, no, he wouldn’t do that, in fact his stomach turned over at the thought of it, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to! Instead, he took a deep breath. He centered himself. He turned his head to the heavens for guidance, but did he find help there? No. He found Bokuto.

The owl had been climbing steadily higher as the land-bound chattered below, powerful wings working to keep him above the chaos. The art on the walls rippled each time he passed, and those tapestries suspended across the ceiling fluttered and blew in the gale generated by the raptor. Except, there wasn’t a ceiling. Through the gaps between the skeins of cloth Tadashi caught glimpse of heavy blue clouds, and the silver flash of rain. 

Tadashi felt his thoughts dissolve into static. This was...ok. This he could handle. Years at sea had taught Tadashi many important things, but one of the most dangerous lessons he had learned was that storms were fearsome. They could sweep a man right off the deck, or kill him slowly from unseen wounds if he tied himself down incorrectly. Entire ships could be lost to the maw of a storm, Tadashi had watched it happen with eyes too young to know the fear of death. But right now, he was safe and warm and surrounded by people who had shown concern for his wellbeing. He stared fishlike at the sheets of rain that hammered down on the top of his aquarium. It couldn’t reach him in here. 

Even so, when lightning forked the sky, Tadashi felt his pulse race and his lips dry. He clasped his hands and rubbed comforting circles into his left palm, willing his heart to slow down. Kozume watched it all with keen eyes. Tadashi closed his eyes against the accompanying boom of thunder and willed his stomach not to twist and turn like it did.

As it stood, not one person came to his aid, even though three out of the four figures in the room had noticed his distress. When Tadashi opened himself back up, he locked eyes with Tsukishima from across the room. The Fate hadn’t moved an inch from his seat next to the hearth, but his attention rested completely on Tadashi. His expression spoke volumes, eyebrows knitted together in contemplation while his mouth twisted into a wobbly line. He almost seemed angry. But there was a softness there too, and the way his hands braced against the edges of the stool made Tadashi think he was on the verge of getting up, though something kept him seated. A wisp of smoke tickled his nose, and Tadashi turned to find Kozume waving some message out of the air.

“What was that?”

_ “Nothing,” _ Kozume replied, not meeting his gaze. The smaller Fate fiddled with his string toy, working his fingers into the tiniest of holes and slowly picking it apart. The toy devolved from a tight, conch-like shape into a mess of thread that Kozume hastily stuffed into his pockets.

_ “Shouyou,” _ he called out. But the tiny god didn’t respond. He was still trying to argue with Tsukishima, Tadashi realized, even though Tsukishima had long since stopped listening. Hinata must have gotten himself quite worked up too, because a thick mass of smoke had collected over the dye pits despite Bokuto’s efforts to stir the air.

“ **_Shouyou_ ** .” Kozume tried again, this time adding more force to his words so that they shot into the wall of smoke like a discus. Tadashi heard a distinct, ‘Huh?’, and a piece of very spirited background noise fell away. 

Hinata stepped back into the center of the chamber, alarmingly close to Tsukishima who had almost relaxed back into his seat. Almost. The Fate started slightly and glared when Hinata suddenly emerged beside him.

“What is it Kenma?” His face was red and blotchy, and Tadashi chalked it up to the smoke until he caught Hinata wiping tears from his eyes. He turned to look at Tsukishima. The god’s expression didn’t change, perpetually bored and above everything now that he was no longer invested in conversation.

_ “It’s time for us to go,” _ Kozume said. Hinata whined slightly and pooched his lower lip, reluctant to go despite the obvious emotional trauma. The diminutive god shot Kozume a pitiful look, but the Fate would not be swayed.  _ “Come on, Shouyou, let’s just go to my room.” _

“Ooh!” Hinata perked up quickly. Tadashi found his interest piqued as well. He hadn’t seen Kozume’s room yet. “Ok! It was nice meeting you, Yamaguchi. Catch you later, Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima muttered something unintelligible as the two left the room. Tadashi became acutely aware of the space between them. Without Kozume and Hinata and their accompanying smoke, the room seemed far too open for two people. Well, one person, a god, and an owl. Tadashi rocked back on his heels, unsure of whether he should go over to Tsukishima, or try and talk to him, or just stand there not knowing how to properly fill the void left by Hinata and Kozume. Thankfully, Tsukishima didn’t leave him to stew. 

“We may as well leave too,” he said, rising from the comedically low stool by the hearth. “No use hanging around here.”

Tadashi nodded hastily in agreement and followed him to the doorway. It opened onto the gloomy staircase, and Tadashi took care to focus only on Tsukishima’s back as they climbed down. The shadows still swirled in the corners of his vision, but Tadashi found them easier to ignore with the Fate there. In fact, he was so focused on the fine weave of Tsukishima’s chiton, that he failed to notice a very important detail until they reached the end of the stair.

“Uhm, Tsukishima,” Tadashi said, eyes wide. “Your tail kinda slipped out.”

Tsukishima turned around and swore. His figure was backlit by the soft yellow glow of his room, so Tadashi wasn’t be sure what expression he made, but it couldn’t have been happy.

“I may not have been as successful in fixing everything as I claimed,” he admitted, stalking into the room. Tadashi followed close behind, not wanting to get locked in the staircase. (it hadn’t happened yet, and he had no desire to break that trend).

Tadashi shrugged, realized the god couldn’t see the gesture, and cleared his throat. “I honestly don’t think it’s that big a deal.” He looked around and saw that the quilt pile had been heaped up against the wall behind the living pit. It wasn’t neat by any stretch of the imagination, and a good deal of it fell onto the cushioned ridge built into the depression. Tsukishima had chosen to sit there, just far enough from the quilts that he could glare at them without risking coming into contact. Hopefully this whole endeavor wouldn’t scar him for life. That could be a very long time for a deity.

“You fixed most of it. I’m sure you’ll get the rest.”

Tsukishima grunted. “How about we change the subject.”

Tadashi walked up behind Tsukishima and shifted his weight to his left leg. 

“You could tell me what Kozume was saying to you just before he left.”

“You could tell me why you nearly pissed yourself when you saw that lightning,” Tsukishima shot back.

Tadashi looked at him wearily. “You know why.”

Tsukishima bit his lip and looked away. That was all the confirmation Tadashi needed. Tsukishima knew his entire life story, he had to. There had been little hints, small slips of the tongue that led the hero to believe Tsukishima knew more than he let on. It should have felt like an invasion, but strangely, Tadashi was relieved. 

Tsukishima didn’t know that, however. His guilt was written all over his face. Hell, he couldn’t even meet Tadashi’s eyes. The hero decided to throw him a bone.

“Looks like you were right when you said he swept people away.”

“Ugh.” Tsukishima hung his head, but Tadashi could hear the relief in his tone. “Don’t remind me. He’s too damn energetic.”

“But,” Tadashi said, choosing his words carefully, “you did kinda look like you were enjoying yourself.”

Tsukishima tipped his head back to glare silently, and Tadashi blanched. “N–” the hero began to say ‘nevermind,’ but something stopped him. 

_ ‘You’re too timid.’  _ Kozume’s words came to him unbidden. Tadashi swallowed his platitude. “You know, I was talking to Kozume earlier.”

Even upside down, Tsukishima looked interested. Tadashi had to willfully tear his eyes away from the faint pulse thrumming along the god’s neck. “Oh? What did Kenma have to say?”

Tadashi licked his lips. “That you’re lonely.”

The words hung in the air between them for several seconds. Tadashi stared at Tsukishima who stared right back, expression betraying nothing. He wouldn’t back out. Tadashi couldn’t be a coward, not if he was going to keep living the way he did, among men and gods and monsters. He plowed ahead.

“He said that you’re lonely. And that other gods don’t visit you all anymore, and I can’t really imagine how difficult that’s been for you, since I know how much you like to needle people.” It had been a joke. It even made Tadashi smile a little, but the Fate was unmoved. Still, he had to go on, “but you seemed to be, I don’t know,  _ okay _ with talking to Hinata. Earlier you made it sound like you absolutely loathed him–”

“I do,” Tsukishima cut in. Tadashi was a little grateful to have been stopped before he started rambling nonsensically. “I do loathe him. Honestly. He’s incorrigible, pig-headed, and incredibly annoying. But for some reason he still comes around every now and then, for Kenma I guess. I usually try to avoid them because, well, you saw how easy it is to get sucked into a conversation. And yeah, I guess I like talking to him–” the god’s cheeks ruddied slightly. Tadashi didn’t fail to notice. “–but only because I’d take anything at this point.”

Tadashi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Huh. Wow. I really didn’t uh, expect you to share.” He smiled though, because even if it was unexpected, it was nice that Tsukishima decided to come out of his shell, at least a little bit.

“Yeah, that was disgustingly sentimental.” Tsukishima huffed and looked away. “Don’t get used to it. I made him cry, and that put me in a good mood.”

Tadashi laughed, loud and unrestrained. Tsukishima looked to him in surprise, huffed and shook his head. Tadashi took that as a good sign.

“You know,” Tadashi said, calming down with every word, “if you need someone to talk to, you can always find me. I mean, I have a lot of questions...and I can try to carry a conversation even if I’m not good at it.”

“Thank you, Yamaguchi.” Pride welled up in Tadashi’s chest. He had said the right thing; it felt good. Tsukishima frowned though, face pinching not unpleasantly. Sure, his lines became harder, a little more rigid, a little more yielding, but they fell into the same patterns as when he was concerned, or at least as they did when Tadashi thought he looked concerned. The mortal only realized he had been staring when Tsukishima spoke again. “You’re annoyingly kind. How is it you can be so earnest?”

“Erm,” That sounded like a compliment, sorta? Tadashi rubbed his sweaty hands on the sides of his chiton and deflected. “Isn’t that a pretty earnest question to be asking?”

Tsukishima nodded slowly. “Touché. You’re not that fun to bait, you know.”  _ Well, I’m not a fish. _ “You’re too...agreeable.”

Oh so it was back to this again. Tsukishima had made out of hand comments like this several times before to see if it would get a rise out of him. It never worked. Being agreeable wasn’t something that he felt he needed to change about himself; it had kept him alive for years.

“You know, we could just talk. It doesn’t have to be a verbal battle,” Tadashi offered. Tsukishima considered that for a moment. He seemed much more relaxed now than he had been, allowing his long limbs to sprawl across the cushioned seats. He didn’t even seem to mind the long, flaxen tail. But he still made a point not to touch the quilt pile where it spilled into the sitting pit.

“Alright,” he finally said. “What do you want to talk about?”

Tadashi cracked a smile and hopped down to sit across from him. “Well, I had this idea about gods and idolatry that I wanted to run by you. What if–”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was wild. Be sure to let me know what you think. You can message me on here, or through my tumblr https://haikyuuaus.tumblr.com  
> I will always be happy to talk about this AU. Always.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for the next chapter, and don't forget to tell me what you think!
> 
> You can find my amazing beta on tumblr at swirling-steam, and my good friend at peachthievery


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